Spring Break Incident
by PaisleyRose
Summary: In this story, our heroine is out of high school and in college and like so many she goes on Spring Break. Can I help it if the Hurricane’s go to her head? Is it my fault if she flashes her ta-tas at a camera? Look out New Orleans here comes the Goblins
1. Chapter 1

**Spring Break incident**

**Also known as**

**Sarah goes wild**

**By **

**PaisleyRose**

**&*&**

**Disclaimer**

**(Heavy sigh)**

**I don't own it, **

**I don't get paid.**

**And I'm thinking of changing the address to my brain!**

**(Ducks the goblin tossed at her head)**

**Okay, okay…**

**I don't own it.. **

**I get to visit…**

**(Help, I'm being held captive by a horde of goblins.)**

**&*&**

**Prologue and Author's thoughts.**

_**We all know that Sarah Williams is no ordinary girl. WE all know that she has attracted the attentions of a certain Goblin King. We all know she won round one.**_

_**What we don't know is what happened next. And that's where we all have our own ideas. One way or another we all pick up the thread and run with it… We all want the King to win in the end; we all want the girl who started out a whiny brat to come to realize that Jareth is not a bad guy… a bad boy, maybe, but not a bad guy… We all want… them to get together and get it on! I'm being honest here! WE love the Smexy scenes! We want more.. .more…(looks at the king and gulps,) I dirgress….**_

_**So this time out, as per the request from the blond seated on the Goblin Throne, I'm going to make her just past jail bait….(grumbles to herself..) In this story, our heroine is out of high school and in college and like so many she goes on Spring Break. Can I help it if she gets mixed up with the wrong crowd and wants to prove she's no goody two shoes? Can I help it if the Hurricane's go to her head? Is it my fault if she flashes her ta-tas at a camera? I'm not the one who told her to do a strip tease, or jump off the balcony! Is it my fault if Sarah's kid brother gets pissed at being left behind and alerts a certain King as to where she's gone? Is it my fault if New Orleans is the perfect place for a Goblin to take a break? Can I help it if matches once struck tend to burn? I'm not the one who started this you know, I'm just the one who reports what happened back to a bunch of squealing obsessed Fan-girls who want to be…. (Stops short,) I digress yet again… (Shrugs)**_

_**So okay… the time line is now a little more than four years later 1991, Sarah is 19 going on 20. (Jim Henson's Canon has her birthday somewhere between May1st and June 21**__**st**__** and the night of the storm is supposed to have been late August early September. And yes, yes I do go by Jim Henson's Canon as Brian Henson has no idea of what the hell he's doing!) Sarah is enrolled in her second year in College, attending New York University, and majoring in Drama, (some things never change, and we are so glad that they don't!) After a long battle with her overly protective father, and her very conservative stepmother, Sarah, backed by Mommy dearest, wins the battle and is allowed to go away for spring break with her roommates. Provided they stay with the widowed aunt of one of the roommates. However no one told Daddy that Tatie Hattie makes Auntie Mame look like a rank amateur… Should we warn him? Nagh, let the chips fall where they may!**_

_**Look out New Orleans… here comes the Goblins!**_

_**(You all thought you had it bad with Vampires and Witches. Ha!)**_

_**Chapter 1.**_

_**Sarah Williams **_listened to the last ditch attempt of her father to talk her out of this trip. Robert had been grumbling all the way to the airport. Sarah for her part, nodded, and tried to pretend she was listening, however the only thing on her mind was two weeks in the Big Easy… New Orleans! Once more she thanked the Gods and the Powers that Be that her mother, actress Linda Williams, could always be counted on to side with her and offer financial support. It was her threat to pay of Sarah to go and stay at a hotel that sent her father over the edge. He said she could go, as long as the three girls were going to be staying with and chaperoned by the widow Mason, Kristy Channing's aunt.

"Sarah," her father barked, "Are you even listening?" He parked the family sedan in the lot at the airport. "Have you heard a single word I've said?"

Apolitically she looked over at him, "I'm sorry Daddy," she winced. "I wasn't really listening." Sometimes truth was the best defense, her father had taught her that and now she was using it against him and his tirade.

Karen came to her rescue, "Oh for heaven's sake Robert," she said getting out of the car, and opening the back seat door for five year old Toby. "Give the girl a break! Give us all a break," she unfastened the boys seat belt and waited for him to step out. "She's agreed to all our demands, give it a rest."

Robert frowned as he slammed his door, "I don't think she should go. I don't care what Linda says, I don't think she should go."

"Neither do I," Karen exclaimed, "However, she's going." She held their son's hand possessively. "Just get her suitcase and let's get her to the gate." Turning to her step daughter, Karen motioned her to join her and head toward the terminal where the luggage would be checked. Karen, who could match Linda in the fashion sophistication department any day, was pulling her navy wool Chanel coat closer to brace against the chill.

Sarah a few years back, and in her bratty stage had thought her stepmother 'tacky'. It was Linda who had opened Sarah's eyes. Karen was not tacky at all but had conservative and classic taste. Linda had been the one to inform Sarah that not everyone dressed with flash. That even she herself didn't when she wasn't going to be where paparazzi were. Not everyone wore haute couture, nor should they. Now just a few years later, even Sarah had to admire Karen's taste.

"Thank you," Sarah said pulling her winter coat tightly about her. The last cold winds of March were blowing, and Sarah was looking forward to the warmth of the Crescent City. "I promise you Daddy," she said for the one hundredth time that day, "I'll behave."

"Spring break," he grumbled getting the case out of the boot of his car. "What moron came up with that idea? Certainly not a man with daughters… too pretty… bad idea…" he continued to grumble as he followed his family to the terminal. Once the bag had been checked he walked with his hands stuffed inside his coat pockets, still grumbling all the way to the gate. "Sending college kids off…missing Easter with family… stupid, stupid, stupid…"

Sarah waved at her traveling companions who awaited her arrival at the gate. "There's Kristy and Lizzie!" she said excitedly.

"You just saw them three days ago at school," Karen mused. "You're acting as if it's been years."

Sarah ran the rest of the way to the open embrace of her college roommates, and now her spring break companions. Both Robert and Karen had to smile at the way the three were carrying on. Toby, on the other hand was eyeing the two other college students as if they were intruders in his perfect life. Kristy Channing was the youngest daughter of an important CEO of an international pharmaceutical conglomerate. Her older brothers were already on staff and Kristy was expected to join them after her last year of college. She was a brilliant chemist, and was looking at a bright future. Yet to look at Kristy one would have thought she was just a pretty little thing. Her short auburn hair and bright hazel eyes set in a perfect oval face with perfectly arched brows gave her a rather pixyish appearance. Looking at her one would not equate her with a person who had chemistry formulas on her mind. In height and form she was not unlike Sarah, who she called her fractured mirror.

"I don't see why I can't come," Toby protested as he stomped a foot impishly. "Why does Sarah get to go and not me?"

Turning to look at the boy Sarah sighed, "Toby I told you, this is a big girls trip…you are not big, and you are not a girl."

"You're not so big," Toby said surly. "And what fun is just girls?"

"I'm still not comfortable with this," Robert handed the ticket to the agent at the gate, "How soon is boarding," he asked trying not to notice the scene Toby was about to make.

"We'll be boarding in a moment sir," the agent said.

Robert nodded, moving to hand the ticket packet to Sarah, he looked over at Kristy, "And your father is fine with you going to New Orleans?"

"He's from New Orleans," Kristy reminded him, "It's his sister we'll be staying with…"

"Don't look at me," Lizzie warned a bit too amused, "My folks are in the Bahamas on a second honeymoon. I haven't spent a Spring Break with them since I was in High School."

Robert rolled his eyes, "Well you're all over eighteen, and I guess we can't stop you."

"I can," Toby bellowed, "Don't go!" His beautiful blue eyes turned stormy.

Karen was letting the three girls try to reason with the fury of the five year old boy who was feeling left out. Sarah pleaded with him to be reasonable, Kristy offered to bring him back something lovely. Lizzie however told him to stop being a brat.

"You're going to be sorry," he growled at his sister. "Don't go!"

Sarah stood up, no more kneeling to her baby brother she told herself. "Toby, I'm going and you have to accept it." She hugged Karen, kissed her father and offered a kiss to the boy.

He refused, turned his back on her and growled, "You'll be sorry!"

"Toby," she gave him one last chance. "Be good and tell me to have a good time." When he refused to look at her she shrugged and bid her parents goodbye. She boarded with her girl friends.

Toby heard her footfalls as they moved away from him; he glared at the three, "You'll be sorry." He repeated.

--

Once on the plane, and seated and having taken off, Lizzie lit up a cigarette. Knowing that most parents didn't approve, she always held off, and tried not to offend. Drawing deeply she questioned Sarah. "What was that all about?"

"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "He was fine with me going to college… I don't see how two weeks away is any different."

"Two weeks," Lizzie said with a wide smile, "Of fun, sun and Southern Hospitality!"

Kristy loosened her coat, "I can't wait to get to the warmth!"

"When was the last time you visited," Lizzie asked the pert dark haired girl who had hatched the idea for this trip. Lizzie, taller and older than either of her two roomies was not nearly as innocent as either. Elizabeth Braden had been born to high society. Her parents were jet setters, in the truest sense of the word. Her grandfather had built an empire that now supported his jet setting offspring and theirs as well. Lizzie was blessed with the Braden good looks and intellect. Tall, lean and utterly blond, she was the picture of most young men's fantasies. Her Cerulean blue eyes could stop a man dead in his tracks and enslave him. She had been accepted at several Ivy League universes of note, and had opted for the smaller up state college. For the last two years, being roommates with Kristy and Sarah, she was ever so glad she had. While it would not really do her resume that much good, it had given her personal inventory an unexpected boost. While the New York social set saw her as the latest in a long line of the picture perfect Braden's, Sarah and Kristy saw her as simply Lizzie. She had enjoyed the last two years rooming with the pair, and even saw them as more than just friends or casual acquaintances from School. She took real interest in their lives, and knowing about Kristy's last visit to her aunt's house seemed very important.

Kristy looked thoughtful, "It was last summer; our family went to Aspen for Christmas." She giggled, "Daddy said Hattie was going to melt the snow…" She described the outlandish snow bunny outfits her aunt had worn.

"Wait," Sarah interrupted, "I thought you said your aunt was a widow…"

Guilt crossed Kristy's pretty face, "Well she is, sort of." She looked sheepishly at her friend. "Actually she's a widow seven times over."

"How old is she," Sarah gasped thinking of an elderly woman in outlandish ski outfits.

"Forty seven; come Mayday…. She's the youngest of the Channing siblings of my father." Kristy snickered delighted with thoughts of her favorite relation. "You gonna love Tatie` Hattie," a flicker of an accent slipped naturally into Kristy's usually perfectly crisp speech pattern. "Everybody does."

Sarah blinked, "Forty seven and married seven times," she gasped. "How old was she the first time she got married?"

"Sixteen, she eloped," Kristy laughed again, "Pépé was so mad, he threatened to skin Jolie Bodine alive, my father said." For the next hour and a half, Kristy told tales of her scandalous Aunt's antics. By the time they landed both Sarah and Lizzie felt like they knew the slightly wicked woman who had given an invitation to her home.

"Let me pick her out," Lizzie begged as they disembarked, "I'll bet I can…"

"Go for it," Kristy giggled.

Scouring the gate area with eager eyes, Lizzie looked for the woman who was supposed to meet them. "I don't see her," disappointment filled her voice. "Do you think she forgot?"

"Not likely," Kristy said shouldering the carryon Turkish carpet styled bag she took with her everywhere.

Sarah saw a commotion at the entrance of the terminal gate, and a large crowd gathering. "I'll bet that's her now," she recognized the type of hullabaloo, as it happened everywhere Linda Williams, her famous mother went. "Is that Tatie`Hattie?"

"Ah yes," Kristy said sounding as if she'd stepped out of a bayou. "That be the lady."

Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_-_Mason was cut from a bolt of cloth that was one of a kind. She was elegant without being ornate, dressed in a simple black dress with a white sheer scarf draped over her pinned on with one simple Gardena. Simple chic, long white opera gloves, an unfussy strand of natural pearls, and classic black heels and dark glasses covering her eyes. When she walked, it was like watching someone dance or glide effortlessly across the floor. At forty seven she had not one strand of gray in her long rich natural brown hair that was worn up this day in a French Twist. She resembled Audrey Hepburn and was always pleased at the comparison. Even her voice inflections were similar to the reclusive actress. Seeing the three girls at the gate she opened her arms to receive them. "Cher," the world sounding like she was saying 'Shar,' floated from her in a joyous expression of welcome.

Kristy moved forward first to greet her graceful and chic Aunt. "Tatie`Hattie," she kissed the proffered cheeks softly. "Thank you for asking us to come."

"Hush, let me look at my little chicks," she lowered the sunglasses covering her eyes; exciting hazel eyes studied the three girls. "Ohhhh ," she said with teasing puckered lips. "Look out New Orleans!" She offered her hand to Lizzie first, "You are the Braden girl," she surmised. "I am acquainted with your family's history, interesting people," she teased and won Lizzie's heart instantly. "And you are Sarah Williams," Hattie said turning to Sarah, ignoring the crowd that were still watching her. "I've seen your mother in several plays… you favor her, nicely." She placed a hand at Sarah's cheek, and for a moment her face turned serious. "But not entirely I think, no… not entirely." Her moment of thought-provoking earnestness vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. "We will talk later," she promised Sarah. Hooking her arm into her niece's she said merrily. "Come Beb's… we are going to run this gauntlet and race the wind home…"

--

Waiting for them when they collected their bags and left the terminal was a long black limo. The uniformed driver took charge of their luggage and stored it in the wide space of the trunk after having held the door open for the four ladies. Once he had returned to the driver's seat he opened the glass that separated him from his passengers, "Your orders, ma'am," he addressed his employer.

"Home, but take the scenic route so I can show off our jewel of a city to our guests, Stevens." Hattie instructed gently, respect for her driver in her tone.

"Of course," he agreed before closing the glass partition.

Turning her attention to Sarah and Lizzie who were seated across from her and Kristy, Hattie smiled cordially with enthusiasm, "Welcome to New Orleans, my city of magic and mystery." As they drove she explained that as it was still lent there were going to be few crowd out. "However, come midnight tonight, the bells of most of the Catholic churches are going to be pealing, tolling in Easter." She placed a thin, slightly bronzed colored cigarette in her long cigarette holder before lighting it. "I myself do not attend church, however if you three are so inclined, I would recommend tonight's service at Our Lady of Good Counsel, it is only a few blocks from my home… a easy walk, and a unforgettable experience." She smiled welcomingly. "Many of our citizens remember their roots and religion on Easter… However, come Monday all the revelers will return." It pleased her to see how the girls reacted to her city. "We will be home soon, and I think you will find my neighborhood fascinating, I know I do."

Hattie Channing-**Bodine**- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason lived a Second Empire-style mansion in the Garden District of New Orleans. The house was a soft rose color and as the approached, Hattie told the girls the house had been dubbed, Mansion Rouge. Like a good many of the large homes on this street, the house and grounds were surrounded by an ornate cast iron fence. The design was a unique; it was roses on thorny stalks, with leaves twisted this way and that.

"My third husband, Morgan Mayfair designed that fence… I asked him was it to keep bad things out, or me in," Hattie teased as the driver of her long stretch limo pressed a button to automatically open the gate.

"What did he answer," asked Sarah spellbound by the woman's life.

"He didn't," laughed Hattie, "He was very smart!"

"It's a beautiful fence," Sarah observed as they passed into the inner drive.

"Yes, it is Beb," nodded Hattie. "I would not trade that fence for love or money." The driver turned the car into the circular drive at the front of the stately mansion. He parked, and got out to open the door for his female riders. "Stevens," Hattie instructed, "Take the car round back ask Roberts to see that the bags are taken up to the rooms for the girls. Ask him to have Millie unpack for the girls." She gathered the girls on her stoop, "Up that street, is the church." She pointed across the street then, "Over there is the house of that woman who writes the Vampire stories… she's a lovely lady, if a bit… unusual." Hattie gave lively descriptions of the neighbors in her tight knit little community. "We here in the Garden District consider ourselves to be a very special part of New Orleans. We have politician, artists, writers, and pillars of the community here." Her accent deepened. "Some, like me, have roots in French Creole traditions. I am very happy to try to introduce you to the real New Orleans, not the touristy one." She placed an arm about her niece. "Come, Char, tell me all the good and juicy gossip of your mama and papa!" She led the girls up the front stairs where they were greeted by a uniformed maid who smiled warmly at them.

Sarah could tell that the staff actually enjoyed working for the lady of this house. She could hardly believe how impressive the old mansion was. "Your home is lovely," Sarah said as they followed the hostess into a parlor where tea was already being set up.

"Thank you, Char," Hattie enjoyed the complement, and sat down to serve tea, "How nice of you to say so." Hattie handed a cup to Sarah.

"Kristy didn't say how long you've lived in the Garden District," Lizzie commented.

"Oh I've been here since I came to this house as a bride at sixteen," Hattie answered in her pretty _Kreyol Lwiziyen_ accent. "Jolie carried me over that threshold and I've been here ever since."

"Your other husbands didn't mind," Sarah asked wide eyed with surprise.

Shaking her head, Hattie answered. "Why should they, they got to live with me," she laughed gently, and the girls joined her in the merriment.

--

Toby sulked all the way home, refusing to speak to his parents, and even refusing a briery meal out. He would not and could not be soothed, pacified or appeased. Once the car had turned into their drive, and he'd been let out, he stalked up the stairs to the front door where Dora, the new housekeeper was waiting for them. She stepped aside seeing the scowl on the face of the little boy. He stormed up the stairs, stopping at the landing, turning and screaming at his parents as they entered the house, "It's not fair!" his voice rose and so did the color in his face. "I hate all of you!"

Robert looked at Karen and sighed when he heard the door to the boy's room slam shut. "I thought we had a few more years before the dramatics started with him."

Shrugging Karen took off her coat, so Robert could hang it up. "He's precocious," she sighed. "He'll get over it, tomorrow we'll have that lovely egg hunt at the church, and he'll forget all about Sarah not being here." She promised.

Toby had no soon slammed the door shut than he threw himself down on his bed and grumbled. "She'll be sorry."

--

Far from the mundane world, hidden by layers of reality and counter-reality, there exists a place where magic flourishes and thrives. Magical mists, Fairy Mists, separate the various kingdoms of this realm. Some of the kingdoms are beautiful; some have a beauty that is dangerous.

_**Somewhere on the edge of imagination, there is a Labyrinth. It twists and turns like wicked thoughts, where no one - no man, woman, or child – had ever reached its centre. No one until her that is, the mortal girl who had done the impossible; Sarah Williams. There standing within the walls of a Goblin Town, is the castle of Jareth, the goblin king. **__**The labyrinth is an enormous maze of incredible mandala like intricacy. The twisting walls interrupted here and there by lush forest, the complex web of waterways, the forbidding castle at the core. It is vast and magical, frightening and compelling at the same time. **_

_**The town and the kingdom for that matter was inhabited by Goblins, who most thought of as nasty little creatures whose greatest delight is stealing babies and turning them into goblins. But this can only happen if you wish for it. You must say exactly the right words for your wish to come true. 'I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!' are the right words. When the goblins hear this phrase, they will come...**_

_**In the circular stone chamber of the Goblin King, surrounded by minions lounging in his draped throne, Jareth tapped his boot with his riding crop. 'Monotonous,' he thought to himself as he covered his face with his leather clad fingers, bored to tears. Jareth had seen it all, much too often. Two-headed sheep, curdled milk, banging pans, snatched nightclothes, barren fruit trees, shifted tables, moldy bread -- But this lot, rooting and prate-falling around all day, still found such tired old clichés a perfect riot every time. Pitiful, they were. **_

_**Jareth yawned, and looked wearily around the room. The walls had been decorated by goblins whose only thoughts were to please him. Dear god, he thought. How jejune could you get? He looked hopefully at the clock. Half past three, the sword-shaped hands indicated. He would have to do something to pass the time. It had been ages since anyone had wished a baby away. Months since he'd had a runner in his Labyrinth. He returned to tapping out a staccato beat on his boot.**_

_**Oblivious to their King's mood, the goblins in the great chamber went about their usual actions of mayhem. Some changed the pig in the helmet, while others drank ale from the leaky keg tucked behind the huge brass gong. Still other's tormented one of the stray chickens that had the bad luck to wander into the throne room. Two had found pea shooters and were taking target practice with the fowl. Jareth watched through his fingers and groaned. Was this all he could look forward to, he wondered. Endless boredom?**_

_** He stood up from the throne, stretched his arms and paced restlessly. Another goblin came dashing past. Jareth reached down and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. The goblin's eyes boggled at his, and Jareth flung him out of his path. The boggled eyed goblin bounced off the wall and scurried away unaffected by the incident.**_

Jareth paced once more, his mind far from this stone chamber, his memory having conjured up the image of a park, far, far away. _**It is an idyllic setting, warm and inviting. The late afternoon sun washes everything with a pink glow. Between the water and a line of lush fruit trees is a flower-strewn glade. The figure emerges from the trees and walks toward the water, crossing the stone footbridge that stands there. It is a young woman dressed in a flowing greenish-gray dress that swirls around her in the breeze. The fading pink light burnishes her hair and causes a flowered circlet she wears on her head to glow. She is breathtaking, a vision of innocence and grace. She stops to pick a flower and then turns suddenly as if she has heard something. Her lovely mouth opens to speak…**_

A discreet clearing of a throat disturbs the King's thoughts and the memory fades away. "Yes," Jareth asked turning to see who was in need of him now. "What is it?"

A tall goblin with a slightly more intelligent expression on his face bowed to the King. "You told us to tell you if ever the child needed you," he said bowing.

"The child," Jareth repeated, blanking for a moment.

"The boy," the goblin nodded, "The one you wished to adopt."

"Ah," Jareth smiled widely. "Toby, why didn't you say so… What's the need?" Moving to his throne, Jareth took a seat and listened.

"He's most unhappy," said the goblin as if that explained it all. "We are not sure how to address this need."

Thinking that anything was better than sitting around here waiting for a summons that was most likely not coming, Jareth stood up and with a wave of his crop transformed his garments into the Royal Regalia of the Goblin King. "Perhaps we should pay a visit to our ward." Goblins that had been dancing about wildly paused; some stared wide eyed and open mouthed at their monarch. Witnessing this swift change in their demeanor Jareth questioned, "What?"

One goblin, the one with the boggling eyes, asked hesitantly, "What if _**she's**_ there?"

"We will deal with her if we have to," Jareth said looking forward to the possible skirmish and battle of wits that running into Sarah would involved. However seeing his forces didn't share his excitement, he added. "We've not run into her thus far on our visits." He opened a portal and a dozen or so goblins scurried in before him.

--

It was only three, but already the daylight was showing the lateness of the hour. Soon it would be dark. Karen had checked in on Toby, and finding him sulking asked if he'd like a snack. He declined the offer and asked to be left alone for a while. His mother frowned.

"You can't go on sulking for the entire time your sister is away," Karen warned.

"She'll be sorry," grumbled the boy as his mother shut the door on her way out. "She's going to pay for this!" He sat up on the bed, crossed legged and growled. "She'll be sorry!"

"I'm sure she will," a crisp accented voice agreed, "Who?" he added as he moved to the bed of the boy.

Toby looked up with a scowl, "Sarah," he said to his visitor.

Jareth reached out a hand to the chin of the child he came to visit so often in secret. The child he had minions watching with great care. "What has she done now," he asked in the voice that told Toby he was on his side.

"She's run off for Spring Break," accused Toby. "Leaving me here… alone…"

"Alone," questioned the King with a raised brow.

Relenting but only ever so slightly, Toby grimaced. "Okay, not all alone… I mean mom and dad are here, but that's not the same."

"No, I don't suppose it is," agreed Jareth. He knew that while Toby's parents were devoted to him, doting on him to distraction, it was Sarah who kept things like magic alive for him. He had watched from the branches of the tree outside this room while Sarah brought to life the old fairytales and fables for the boy.

"She'd going to be sorry," warned Toby, his eyes rimmed with darkness and full of anger. "I wish…" he began only to have a gloved hand silence him.

"Not so fast young man," hastened the King. "Word like that are difficult to take back." He removed the hand once he was assured the boy would not miss speak. "Thing of what you were about to say… do you want to lose your sister forever," the boy shook his head not, sniffling. "I didn't think so." Opening his arms, Jareth waited until the child was snuggling into him before he spoke again. "Would you like me to go and make sure that Sarah is… safe?" he offered with reasons of his own. Toby nodded, his head resting on the Goblin Armor breastplate worn by the King. Jareth smiled, "Tell me where she's gone," he coaxed.

"Some stupid place called New Orleans…" grumbled the boy, "For a stupid big girl's trip."

Having all the information that Toby could give him; Jareth soothed the boy and promised to make everything right. "You just rest, enjoy your time with your parents…I'll take care of Sarah." He heard Toby's mother call him down to dinner. "Go, I'll take care of everything," he assured the boy.

Moving back through the portal along with his minions, Jareth stalked the halls of his castle until he reached the chamber of the Castle Scribe and Scholar, Master Artemis, the brother of the wise man who stayed in the king's gardens. "Master Artemis," he called out as he entered the chamber that was piled haphazardly with scrolls and books and stay parchments.

From the upper level, looking over the balcony the Scholar answered, "Yes, Sire?" Dressed in ill-fitting human-style finery, plumed hat, lacey velvet tunic, bucket boots, baldric_**,**_ and having read lot of human literary romances, Artemis was trying to live out his own personal fantasy. Not nearly as old as his brother, he was still young at heart.

Jareth smiled up at the outlandish figure above him, "What is Spring Break, and do we still have a residence in New Orleans?"

"Spring Break," questioned the Scholar back with surprise, "If I'm not mistaken sire, that's a yearly ritual of the young mortals who attend university… a sowing of oats as it were." He ventured down the circular steps.

"Like the rites of Pan," Jareth asked somewhat scandalized.

"Not precisely," Artemis chuckled. "Not too far from it, but not precisely." He placed a hand on the shoulder of his monarch and student. "Why do you ask, my lad?"

"I've never experienced this phenomenon," he stated as if that answered all questions.

"I see," Artemis sighed heavily, knowing there was trouble to follow. "And why the city of New Orleans?"

Jareth winked wickedly at his tutor. "Because you old fox, that's where Sarah has gone to…. Now pack up what we need… I promised Toby to keep an eye on her."

"You did what," asked the incredulous tutor. "Sire," he bellowed as the king spun heel and stalked out of the chamber. "You've lost your mind!"

"Not yet," Jareth chortled. "Not yet!"

&*&

_**Author's note:**_

_**Some of the passages here are taken out of context from the novel by A.C. Smith...Some from an early script by **__**Laura Phillips and Terry Jones. Story by Dennis Lee. And some words are from the story book by**_ _**Louise Gikow. Corrections and additions by moi.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2.**_

_**Jareth **_had 'residences' all over the mortal realm. It was often necessary for him to monitor a situation, and to do that without raising too many mortal suspicions required living from time to time among the masses. The house in New Orleans, like other residences was attached to the Goblin Realm by the Labyrinth. A safe house and refuge into the mortal realm as it were; most of Jareth's homes were on the modest side. However the New Orleans house was different, it was as rich in history as the old city itself. _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation had been built outside the city of New Orleans, in the bayous and shoreline of Lake Pontchartrain. Where the mists and fog met and swirled forming strange shapes and images. Unlike the decorative houses in town, with their fancy ironworks embellishments this house was more the traditional plantation house. Two stories, featuring _traditional_ Louisiana Creole elegance, the ground level was brick that had been covered in a thick layer of white plaster and painted over, covered by a wide promenade that went around the upper level where the bedrooms were. Above the private second floor was a walk up attic for storage. The gardens that surrounded the house proper were enchanting. The house itself had been built in 1700's just before the French colony was ceded to the Spanish in 1763. Even most of the out buildings were original to the plantation. There was an oddly shaped stone barn; it was circular with a conical roof that came to a high point like a witch's hat. The old smoke house was an example of an early Creole building style known as _**poteaux-en-terre**_ (post-in-ground). Colonial Creole settlers used the material provided by the land to construct their buildings. Cypress wood, used in half-timbered framing, along with _**bousillage**_, a mixture of mud and binders such as moss, animal hair, or straw, was a characteristic feature of Creole buildings. The laundry for the plantation was also a_** poteaux-en-terre**__ structure._ _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation reflected the men and women who built it. Larger Creole homes such as _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation were raised West Indian style cottages with galleries, full-length porches that wrapped around a structure, separate exterior doors for rooms fronting the galleries and hipped or gabled roofs.

While _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation was picturesque, it was for the most part quite secluded. Locals of New Orleans tended to stay as far from the eerie and strange plantation, saying that it was unnatural and slightly sinister. Even the Voudines who practiced in the bayou stayed away from _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. For the most part the plantation worked at being a self sufficient state within its own walls. Homegrown vegetables and fruits, wild game, fish, breads and "extension foods" like gumbo and étouffée, combined with spices like red cayenne pepper and filé (dried, ground sassafras leaves), provide the basics of Creole cuisine. Traditional dishes include smoked bacon, ham and sausage in various forms: boudin (rice and sausage stuffed casings), andouille (smoked sausage) and zandouille (smoked sausage used as seasoning in other dishes). Tasso (smoked and dried strips of meat), meatpies (crusts stuffed with ground beef, ground sausage and spices, reminiscent of empanadas. Other fundamentals of their Creole diet was dirty rice (flavored with savory meats and spices), cornbread dressings, stuffed mirlitons (chayote squash), gratons (cracklings or fried pork skins), and boulets (meat balls made of seasoned ground beef served in a roux or tomato gravy). With the abundance of pecans in the area, popular Creole desserts included pralines, pecan pies and pecan cakes. Café had long been a traditional drink in this Creole household, as was lemonade and iced mint tea from mint grown on the grounds. Like many Creole homes there were pigeonniers to ornament the plantation. Domestic pigeons had value not only as a delicacy but as a source of fertilizer. _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation also kept quail, guineafowl and peacocks, as the master had very unusual tastes. With abundant and bountiful farm land, overflowing orchards and a verity of stock on the plantation, it could and often did survive very well on its own.

During the civil war, not even the invading Yankees wanted anything to do with the seemingly pastoral setting. While Federal commander, Major General Benjamin Butler, soon subjected New Orleans to a rigorous martial law so tactlessly administered as greatly to intensify the hostility of South and North, even he kept his distance. Never once even stepping on _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation soil his garrisons were also ordered to keep their distance and stay out of the bayou on the edge of the plantation. One garrison made the mistake of trying to show off and invade the mysterious plantation. A strange mist rose up and many a man ran screaming back onto the road that led to New Orleans. They told tales of strange and dreadful creatures that had chased them back over the stone wall to the road.

The uninvited very quickly left and not always in the condition they came in. So it was not unusual that the working staff at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation were _traditional_ Louisiana Creoles who had been born into service on the plantation. Not slaves, but servants, part of generation upon generation of attached to the house and its owner. No one who worked on the plantation ever went without. The master of the plantation was seen as a very just man by those who were indebted to him. The Pommeroi name was blessed by those touched by the master's generosity in each generation that stayed with the plantation staff. Each generation found more and more reason to stay. The outside world, even the unique world of New Orleans was not always welcoming to them.

Today _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation had all the modern conveyances, yet no one recalled installing the wires for eclectic power, or the pipes for running water. There were phone lines, fax lines and computers lines going out to the house, and the bills were paid on time. The municipal worker and the utility companies saw no reason to investigate what obviously had to be misfiled paper work on their part.

On Saturday afternoon, the day before Easter, Jareth arrived at the plantation by a rather conventional means. The long stretch limo came through the heart of the city having come down from Slidell. It was his way of warning the locals he had returned, as the limo of Mr. J.G. Pommeroi was recognizable. From there they headed out to Highway 10, to the bayou country along side of the waters of Lake Pontchartrain. Just twenty minutes from the bawdy rowdy French Quarter, sat the mysterious _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. The limo pulled into the winding tree lined drive of the plantation; it seemed as if the old oaks with the Spanish moss hanging were bowing to greet the royal person in the vehicle.

Anton Bedeau, the butler and head of the serving staff at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation was standing at the door awaiting his master's arrival. He was dressed in a uniform that bespoke of the gentile times gone by. Politely he greeted his employer, "Bonn apré midi Monsieur Pommeroi, welcome home."

"Thank you Anton," he greeted the servant with approval, "It's been far too long since I've been _**home**_." He alighted from the vehicle dressed like a fashionable Southern Gentleman of rank and position and wealth. He wore a gray suit, lightweight, with a soft blue shirt, and carried a walking stick with a crystal head piece. "It's good to be home." His usually wild hair had been softened and was behaving much more conventionally. Fondly he looked about, of all his residences away from the Goblin Castle; this one was the one he favored most.

Anton motioned for lower ranking house servants to fetch the master's luggage. "Your message that you would be arriving came as a bit of a surprise," the servant admitted. "I would think Mardi Gras would be far more to your liking than the end of lent."

Jareth chuckled, the message he'd sent was a contingency of goblins to the plantation. The calling card of a Goblin King, he mused. "Actually we are here to observe Spring Break," Jareth informed his servant. "This is Artemis LeClaire, my personal Attaché and assistant."

Artemis exited the back seat behind the cleaned up Goblin King. He too was dressed for the climate, and time of year. His suit was in light weight blue seersucker, and he wore a lighter blue shirt that seemed to make his blue eyes sparkle. "Anton," he greeted the other servant with respect.

"I have taken the liberty of placing Monsieur LeClaire in the green suite, sir." Anton stated as they moved toward the entry of the ante bellum residence. "Would you care to have refreshments now or perhaps take a rest, sir?"

"I should think something refreshing, some Mint tea, and some of Estelle's little tea sandwiches if she's prepared some. You know the ones I like, the ones with her peach chutney."

"She was expecting you would want some," Anton admitted with a wide smile. "Where would Monsieur like to be served?"

"The veranda," Jareth said thinking of the pleasant view of his gardens and the bayou from there. "Thank you, Anton." He directed Artemis to follow him.

The back veranda of the house was on the ground level, and covered in stone pavers that had been there since the house had been built. Baskets hung from the promenade above filled with ferns and other southern typical plants. The width of the esplanade overhead gave shade to the lower level keeping cool even in the midday sun. Spring came to the bayou early and already the trees were starting to blossom, filling the air with exotic fragrance. A soft breeze was coming in off the waters, and Jareth took a seat in one of the high backed wicker chairs. "What do you think Artemis?"

The man pulled gently on his well trimmed Van Dyke beard. "It is a paradise," he sighed. "I wonder that you don't visit more often."

"Goblins are not always welcomed even in the bayou," Jareth suppressed the tone of frustration, and kept his features schooled.

Being a citizen of the Goblin community and yet not one of the lower goblin race, Artemis understood what the king was alluding to. "Some of your subjects are an acquired taste," he agreed, moving to the chair on the opposite side of the table between him and the King. "Mortals don't always take that in to consideration when they call upon us." He seemed to be taking on the elegance of his surroundings and looked like an old time Southern Gentleman. "As my elder brother would note, one should be careful of what one asks for…"

"Quite," Jareth agreed relaxing in the spring warmth, and breathing in the fragrances of early blooming crape myrtle.

Anton returned with a slender delicate young African Creole woman in a maid's uniform. She pushed a cart with the refreshments for the gents. "Monique," Jareth said in a pleased voice. "How are you child?"

The young woman smiled at her employer and benefactor. "I'm very well, now." She offered an icy tall glass of mint tea to the King with a hand that was steady, something that was not true a few short years ago. "Thank you for asking sir," she then handed a glass to Artemis before setting a three tiered glass and sliver _HorDurve__' __tray_ on the table between them and their little luncheon plates. Her movements were graceful and exacting. She gave the King and his companion a quick confident curtsey before rolling the cart off to the side and excusing herself.

"How is she working out," Jareth asked Anton watching her move back into the great house.

"Far better than I'd expected," the butler divulged with a wary expression on his face. "I had not thought she'd~ assimilate. You know yourself how ailing the poor child was when she came to us. Not just her body, but her fragile soul… it was months before she could bare to be near anyone let alone work side by side."

"Has she assimilated into the~ family?" Jareth asked with marked interest.

Anton smiled assuring the man that the girl had indeed. "She's engaged to be married… a minor miracle in itself. She's hoping that you will consent to giving her away, Monsieur Pommeroi, after all you are more her father than the one who wished her away."

Listening to the conversation, Artemis interrupted. "You mean to tell me that lovely child is…"

"A wished away," Jareth finished for him, sadness gripping him. "Poor girl was already in her teens, shuffled from family to family member… her stepfather wished her away after having half beaten the child to death… and being too old to turn, I gave her the option of staying here." Jareth stirred his tea with the sprig of mint that decorated it. "Her body and her spirit seemed to have healed well." He addressed his butler. "I will have a talk with her about the wedding myself, thank you for letting me know. Is my business overseer coming?"

"Monsieur Lagree is in his office awaiting your summons," Anton said with a curt bob of his head.

"Tell Cyrus I'll see him directly," Jareth severed himself from the tray of sandwiches.

Moments later the Goblin King and his Scholar were joined by a man who seemed a bit rougher than the other members of the king's staff here who walked across the lawn to join them. Cyrus Lagree had for years been the brunt of jokes comparing him to Simon LeGree of fiction. Outside of the similarities in the names, there were no other real resemblances. Cyrus was one of the most conscientious painstaking and considerate of men. His treatment of his fellow man was judicious, even those who continued to taunt him. He was rougher around the edges than the house hold staff, however his work often demanded a more physical and brutal manner. He was a man of average height, and perhaps a bit too heavily built. His face was weathered and unshaven today. His unruly hair had already turned gray. His big hands held the ledgers that he knew Mr. Pommeroi would need to see. His face was serious, and yet he had the most beautiful blue eyes that were totally at peace.

"Mr. Pommeroi, good to have you back," he greeted the man who employed him. "I trust you had a good journey."

"Tolerable," Jareth teased ignoring the disheveled appearance of the overseer. "How is that cotton mill you insisted I buy?"

Seeing a chance to crow Legree did so, "Doing better than its competitor." He pulled the papers for Jareth to look over. "As you see we retooled and still made a profit."

Reading over the facts and figures, Jareth motioned for Cyrus to take a seat. "This is very good." He commented as he got to the bottom lines. "And our fruit packing plant, how is it doing?"

"We had a very good year," Cyrus opened the ledger and passed it to Jareth. "In fact all of your holdings are doing very well considering the economy. We've added more staff to all shifts." He nodded at Monique as she served him a glass of tea.

"I'm pleased Cyrus," Jareth stated returning the ledger and sheets to his overseer. "You're doing a fine job." He waited until the young woman had left the veranda, "And that matter of her stepfather?"

"Seen to," assured the weathered man. "He won't be troubling that little girl or any other little girl ever again."

"Good," Jareth said through pursed lips. "Now about that Jazz club in the French Quarter," he asked. "How is it doing?"

"It's coming along slowly," the overseer stated. "We knew breaking into that market would be more difficult." He shrugged. "You're competing with proven establishments with a loyal fan base. You've got Pete Fountains' joint down the road… and The Blacksmith's shop just across the way… it's going to take time. Right now we seem to be attracting the rougher crowd. Bikers and drifters, and oil riggers."

"Don't let it get too gentile," warned the thoughtful King. "Rough might work for us." He gave it thought, agreed with himself, and then changed subjects. "Who is having midnight services in the Garden District?"

Cyrus shifted in his seat, "Were you planning on attending a service," he cleared his throat, "After the last time…"

"Oh it's been long enough," Jareth stated with a wicked grin, "It was their fault," he winked. "I warned them not to mess with me."

Prepared for anything his employer would ask, Cyrus opened an appointment book. "Trinity Episcopal," he said and seeing the grimace moved on, "St. Patrick," he saw the eyes of his employer hood, "First Emmanuel Baptist Church," his own voice sounded doubtful. He looked over at Jareth who was shaking his head in the negative emphatically. "Oh yes, they might not be so welcoming," he looked further down his list. "There's a service at Our Lady of Good Counsel, and I don't recall you having had trouble there before."

"That's on Howard Ave. isn't it," Jareth stood up to think, "That would put it… down the street from Prytania Street…"

"Well its walking distance, I suppose… but St. Alphonsus Parish ‎is closer…" Cyrus said looking at the addresses.

"Yes, but it's staffed by the Redemptorists since 1847," Jareth stated icily.

"That makes a difference," asked Cyrus slightly confused.

"In this case it might," Jareth didn't explain further. "Thank you, Cyrus." He extended a hand to the overseer, signifying the meeting was at an end. "Wish your family a blessed Easter for me. I shall see you on Monday morning in the office."

Discreetly Artemis waited, "Why does it make a difference?"

"I'm _**acquainted**_ with the lady who is hosting our Sarah," Jareth acknowledge with diplomacy. "Au fait as they say locally. If there is one thing Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason deplores, it is sanctimonious papists."

"Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason," Artemis repeated her name with widening eyes of surprise. "The lady has had seven marriages; she must be quite the woman…" He pulled on his mustache with a flourish and a gleam in his blue eyes.

A smirk came to the King's lips. "Oh she was, and is," he agreed. Taking one more sandwich he motioned the Scholar to follow him. "Come, you must see the bayou as the sun sets, it's breathtaking!" He strode down the garden path. "We've time before we need to get ready for Church."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3.**_

Hattie noticed Sarah staring pensively at the portrait over the mantle, "Handsome, no?" she asked quietly as she stepped up behind the younger woman. Her voice filled with a pride that only love could arouse.

"Yes," Sarah agreed not taking her eyes off the likeness. "Who was he?"

"Dat be Joile, my first husband…" sighed the widow. "He was a beautiful man, inside and out." Her long arms wrapped around Sarah in a very familiar manner, as if they were related. "He was the love of my life," Hattie admitted with stark honesty. "Had he not died, I would never have looked at another man."

Not disturbed by the familiar motion, Sarah instead felt a tingling of relaxed comfort. "He looks like a beautiful man," her voice mimicked her hostess's accent.

"Bon," whispered the widow, delighted that the Northern girl was already falling under the spell of her beloved city.

Fascinated and just a touch inquisitive, Sarah turned to look at the other woman who was smiling up at the face of the attractive man in the painting. "You were only sixteen when you married," she said slightly embarrassed to bring up the other woman's age. "How did you know he was… the one?"

Hattie blushed, "I knew Jolie long before I married him…" her admission seemed so casual, and yet it was not. It was completely personal. "You see Jolie was a Bodine, they are a very important family here in New Orleans. He was at the time we married one of the most eligible bachelors in not only New Orleans, but in this state, maybe even in the entire South. There was not an unattached woman breathing in this parish and others that didn't want to be the one to catch up this prize." Her laugh was joyful and infectious. "But it was I who won the his heart and soul."

"I take it there was an age difference," Sarah looked at the woman.

"Ten years," Hattie admitted freely. "I had known Jolie all my life. His papa and mine had business dealings. We ran in the same social set and attended all the same functions. When I was six, he was sixteen and I thought him the meanest spoiled brat little horror. He always had girls dapped all over him, and I thought he was stuck up, breaking every heart he could," her voice turned wistful. "Then I turned ten and he was away at school, he came home and he seemed to have changed, softened not so full of himself. When I turned fourteen, and was reading the romantic novels we all love so much secretively, I began to see Jolie in a different light. But he was twenty four and already the man about town… I thought that all I would ever have was a silly romantic fantasy of him."

Self-conscious, and awkwardly Sarah asked, "What happened then?"

"I turned sixteen, and my papa threw this outlandish coming out party." Hattie's voice thickened as she spun the tale. "Every important family in Louisiana was represented. Even the Governor and his wife were in attendance. My father's house was full of light and music and joy for the occasion. Papa knew that I wanted to be the prettiest girl in the world that night, and he ordered a copy of the Hubert de Givenchy gown that Miss Hepburn wore in the film **Sabrina**… my favorite film… Papa paid a fortune for it… It was a wonderful white gown with a long pencil skirt, with an attachment behind. Strapless white organdy, embroidered by hand with black and white flowers, and I felt like such a princess in it!" Sighing deeply she recalled the night for Sarah.

"Givenchy's sewers had done a wonderful job recreating the gown, down to the last detail. But then it had only been four years since the film, and many of them had worked on the original… The fitters teased me that I was exactly the same size as Audrey," she chuckled gently. "The guests had arrived, and Mama and Papa and I were standing on the stair, waiting to make our big entrance…" She paused, remembering the details. "Papa's butler announced us, and we came down the grand staircase of my father's house, everyone in the foyer was applauding. But I only had eyes for the man standing at the bottom of the stair, looking at me as if he'd never seen me before." Her eyes went once more to the face in the painting. "Once I had received all my guests, Jolie asked me to dance. Papa had the orchestra play "La vie en rose". We must have made a stunning pair, me in my Givenchy gown, and Jolie in his white dinner jacket. Papa insisted that I dance with some of the other young men attending, and I did, but I always ended up back in Jolie's arms."

"That sounds so romantic," Sarah sighed.

"It was," breathed Hattie. "That night, after all the guests had departed, and my parents had gone up to their room, I went out into the garden, still wearing my beautiful gown. I danced under the moonlight alone, reliving the moments… and then I was not alone; my Jolie took me into his arms…" She sighed wistfully. "We eloped that night; my beautiful gown was no longer a coming out dress, but my wedding dress…"

"You were only sixteen," Sarah repeated. "How did you know he was the one? The only one?"

Turning very serious Hattie looked at Sarah, "Has there never been just one man in your heart and mind, child?" She touched the girl's face with silken fingertips, "Just one?"

A flicker of a memory of a white ball gown, of a ballroom with crystal and candles and haunting music, of a man with stormy beautiful eyes filled Sarah for a moment, "Perhaps… one." She admitted then sadly added. "But it wasn't real….it was only a fantasy…"

"Not real," asked the widow. Hattie saw something in Sarah's face, something she'd noticed before and she advised the girl. "Don't be so quick to dismiss what you don't understand." She looked up a Jolie, "I didn't understand my Jolie at first, it was only later that I was ready to be with him." She whispered, "And I would not trade our few short years together for anything, beb. Not for anything."

"But you married after he was…" Sarah sharply bit off the end of her comment, mortified at her impertinence.

"Yes," Hattie said firmly. "I did…and though I loved all my husbands, not one could compare to my Jolie." She took Sarah's hand, leading her to the picture gallery in the hall. "These are my beautiful husbands," she waved a hand at the portraits hanging. "I loved each and every one of them for the short time that I was blessed in having them." She touched the gilded frame of one. "But if Jolie had died, none of them would have caught my eye."

"They're all very handsome," Sarah observed.

"They were," Hattie agreed happily. " They were also smart, and witty and very, very rich!" Hattie chuckled. "They were all good men." Her face hardened a bit. "No matter what was said about them or me from a pulpit, they were good men." The sound of the clock in the hall chiming told Hattie it was getting late. "You girls should go rest," she called out for the other two to join herself and Sarah in the hall. "Pere Jacque is not happy if you wander in late for his service. Nor does he approve of congregants who fall asleep during his sermon." She shooed the girls up the stairs, watching Sarah with special interest. "Perhaps I make an exception tonight," she whispered as if speaking to the pictures of her late husbands. "Perhaps I too shall attend church." She looked over at the framed image closest to her. "It's a thought," she shrugged, the frame seemed to shiver. "It's just a thought." The frames continued to quiver, and Hattie blew them a kiss before she too went up the stiars.

--

Hattie's house was large enough that the girls could have easily had rooms of their own. However knowing that friends on a trip such as this the three would only sneak into each other's room, Hattie had arranged for them to share the pretty rose colored bedroom with its two canopy beds and the white and gold daybed that had netting draped above it. The room was twice as large as the room that was used as a nursery back in the Victorian manor that Sarah had grown up in, and had its own bath suite, and a balcony that had a wonderful view of the district.

Sarah was not used to the idea of a maid; however both the other girls were. Lizzie was lounging on one of the canopy beds, buffing her nails while Kristy took up residence on the other. Leaving the daybed for Sarah's use. Sarah watched a bit self-consciously as the maid set out dresses for the girls to wear to church services later that evening. She tried to listen attentively as her friends discussed the plans for the next few days; however she was too distracted to make much sense of it. It wasn't until the maidMillie exited that Sarah relaxed.

"What where you and my Aunt discussing?" Kristy asked looking totally relaxed, her bare foot rising and falling back onto the bed she was laying on her stomach upon.

"She was telling me about Jolie Bodine," Sarah said thoughtfully. "How they ran off the night of her coming out party." The dark haired girl mused. "It all sounded rather romantic."

"She left out the part about my grandfather going after Jolie with a shotgun," snitched Kristy. "Papa said he never saw his father as angry as he was the next morning when the maids found that Hattie's bed had not been slept in and she was nowhere to be found."

"Well, she was only sixteen," Sarah admitted.

Lizzie snorted, "Ballsy if you ask me."

Kristy winced at the use of the vulgar term. "Yes, but not very smart…" The girl with auburn hair shook her head, "It was a very long time before Jolie Bodine was welcomed into my grandfather's house!"

"So your aunt came to this house as a bride, right?" Sarah sat gingerly on the daybed. "Jolie bought this house?" She blinked rapidly. "That means all the other husbands just moved in here?"

Lizzie wiggled her brows, "Kinky!" The three friends giggled maddeningly.

--

Artemis strolled beside his king, the sun had set, and he had to admit that the bayou was enchanting in spite of the goblins that were playing hide and seek. "You seem far more relaxed in this setting," he observed.

"There's no runner," mused Jareth as he walked with a graceful leisurely pace. "There's less pressure on me here."

"I had always thought you thrived on the pressures of your station," Artemis chuckled.

Jareth also chuckled. "There have been times," he agreed readily. "Still, one could easily learn to adapt to the life of a Southern Gentleman."

"Indeed," the Scholar said breathing in the fragrant night air, "Especially in so idyllic a setting."

Pausing Jareth looked out over the waters where translucent mist was forming a layer of fog at the shoreline. "_**Le Petit Bruyere**_ is heavenly, and I intend to see it stays so." He smiled with mischief. "We may be out of step with time, but then here in the south one has that option. It's a slower more graceful pace of life. And gentility is still found even amid the modern era that has dawned."

"One would think you don't have any fondness for progress, Sire." Artemis observed with a canny eye.

"Progress," exclaimed the King, "Is all well and fine, but it often comes at a high cost." He turned his steps toward the house. "It is a pity that manners and graces are often the first thing to be discarded."

"Times change," the Scholar said with a shrug. Giving one last longing glance toward the bayou, he followed Jareth to the main house. "What time is this religious service you wish to attend?"

"Pere Jacque's services usually begin at ten with a choral concert, and then the Vigil begins at eleven." Jareth said knowingly. "We shall arrive for that," he advised.

--

At nine thirty that evening, the three girls met Hattie in the foyer; Kristy looked at her aunt with skepticism. Hattie shook her head, snapped her fingers and one of the maids brought a box to her. She opened the box, handing a little chaplet veil and a pair of little matching lace gloves to each of the girls. "You are not in the North where anything goes," she scolded them gently. "Here, young ladies of good families still show respect for the church." She handed each girl a hat pin to pin the chaplet into their hair, "That includes covering one's head, and wearing gloves."

Kristy rolled her eyes at Hattie, "You can be so old fashioned for someone who is so progressive."

"Hush," Hattie scolded again before looking at her girls. "There is a tradition in this neighborhood of walking to the church for the vigil services. It is a respectful and solemn procession. At the church there will be a choral recital, and then the prayers of the vigil before mass… it's a special service, with candles and incense and much pomp." She gave them each an inspection, and once she was satisfied that the girls were presentable; she motioned Roberts, her butler to open the door. "Ladies," she invited the young ladies to join her.

Sarah could not help but notice how the neighbors gave the four women from the Mansion Rouge wide eyed stares. She suspected it had something to do with the statement Hattie had made earlier about her husbands' being good men. The whispers behind gloved hands didn't seem to concern Hattie as she strolled proudly down the street with her protégées in tow. Taking her cue from Hattie's lead; Sarah squared her shoulders, schooled her features and marched proudly and gracefully with her hostess. Lizzie and Kristy also noted the gossips and followed suit. No one dared speak a word to them along the procession route as it was not permissible. However that didn't hold true once they arrived at the church. Hattie allowed the girls to enter the nave of the church first, to get a glimpse at its magnificent structure. Passing the Angle fonts that held holy water for parishioners to dip their fingers into, they wandered in and looked for seats for their group of four, there a pinched faced, long nosed woman accosted them.

"Who are you," she demanded, as if she were the Queen of New Orleans. "**WE** don't take well to strangers here in our church," her eyes were narrowed on Sarah.

"They are with me Blanche Abbott," Hattie stated coolly as she came strolling up the aisle.

Blanche Abbott turned her cold eyes on Hattie and seethed. "Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason," from her lips it almost sounded like a curse. "Well, I guess it's true, everybody gets religion on Easter." Curtly she turned and moved to join her own family.

Kristy was shooting angry looks at the woman who'd been so rude to her aunt. Hattie however motioned the girls to be seated in a pew that was half way up the center of the church. She gave each of the girls a program, before taking her own seat beside them. Lizzie leaned over, whispered something in the widow's ear and was given a crinkled smile before Hattie placed a finger to her lips to silence the girl.

Sarah looked nonchalantly about the congregation as it gathered; she noted that Mrs. Abbott was not the only member of the parish who seemed disturbed by Hattie's presence. While the church filled there was still room in the row that Hattie and her girls were in. Yet no one seemed to want to be in that row. Looking over at her hostess, Sarah saw that instead of being insulted, Hattie wore an expression of triumph. Admiring her for her lack of self consciousness, Sarah decided that she would be the perfect role model for years to come. She reminded her of her mother in many ways.

The great pipe organ in the back of the church was situated on the upper level along with the choir loft. The choir director in his formal robes nodded to the organist who gracefully ran her fingers over the keys and tapped pedals at her feet skillfully. He raised his robed arms and gave the cues for the assembled singers. The heavenly sound of the well rehearsed voices filled the nave. The recital ended with about ten minutes to spare before the Vigil service was to begin.

Sarah was looking at the evening's program, unaware of the muted commotion from the rear of the church. She didn't see the stares or the heads turning, however Hattie did, and she also turned her head to see what the cause of the fuss was. It was more than she'd expected, her head had turned just in time to witness the man in the elegant evening attire accompanied by an equally well dressed older gentleman. It was the walking stick held in the hand of the first gent that drew the attention of the widow, her lips parted and she heard her own quick intake of breath. Not wishing to make a scene or draw attention to herself she composed herself. Pere Jacque, entered from the sacristy, dressed in the long black**_cassock_**** that he wore under his vestments for services, carrying his book of the liturgy. Genuflecting before the alter he moved to the center of the Sanctuary. Opening the book he began to read the passages dealing with the Passover. **Incredulous and disbelieving parishioners responded to the Priest's words at the appropriate places. More and more stop thinking about the two unusual gentlemen seated toward the front of the church. When Pere Jacque finished reading, he bowed his head, gave a benediction blessing and exited back to the sacristy. Slowly each light in the large edifice was extinguished, until the only light in the church were the flickering candles at side alters.

The church was silent for a few moments, and then from the back of the church once more came the sound of the organ and the choir. As Pere Jacque, now attired in his white and gold high holy day vestments entered the church carrying the _**Paschal candle**_ the choir sang out the Alleluia Chorus by Handel. Pere Jacque made his way up the center aisle of the church, with altar boys lighting candles of the person in end seats. Each person then gave a light to the one next to them and soon the entire church was ablaze of candle light. The experience as Hattie had said was a very emotional one, men and women alike had tears streaming down their cheeks, unashamed at the show of emotion. Sarah could not help but be moved, as was Lizzie and even Kristy who'd experienced this vigil service before.

During the Eucharist, which Sarah and Lizzie as non Catholics could not participate in, there was a singing of the Hymn 'I am the bread of life.' Sarah and Lizzie's voices both joined into the crowds. Sarah found though one voice, a unique baritone seemed to stand out on the choruses. Each time the phrase '_**And I will raise him up,**_' was sung that one voice rose above all others. It was a beautiful, almost unearthly voice, with passion that permeated every syllable. It was not the beauty of the voice, but the passion that seemed so strangely familiar to Sarah. She tried in vain to see where the sound was coming from, and who it belonged to.

When Mass ended, Pere Jacque exited the altar and with his acolytes and altar boys processed down the center aisle to the back of the church where he awaited to give his personal Easter greetings to his congregation. Ushers stepped beside each pew to allow them to exit in orderly fashion. When it was their turn, Hattie and the girls stood up and exited the pew. Hattie greeted the priest who if he was surprised to see her was crafty enough not to show it.

"Blessed Easter, Hattie," he greeted her in friendly fashion. "You are looking very well… and is this little Kristy?" The Priest took the girls hands into his own. "My goodness you've grown since last I saw you." He looked at the other girls and smiles, "What have we here?"

"Pere Jacque," Kristy did the introductions. "These are my roommates from college, come with me to visit Tatie`Hattie," she drew Lizzie forward frist. "This is Elizabeth Braden, and Sarah Williams."

"Welcome to New Orleans," the Priest said with friendliness. "I do hope you young ladies will enjoy your visit." With the crowd still behind them, and most of them being parishoners who felt they were more important, the Priest told Hattie he looked forward to speaking with her soon, and moved on to the elderly couple behind Hattie's girls.

Hattie led the trio out of the church were many folk were greeting each other and waiting to see if lightning were about to strike Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason. When nothing out of the ordinary happened they began to disperse. As they reached the bottom of the stair, Sarah turned to look up at the church once more. When she did she was observed by a stylish young woman with dark and secretive eyes. She pulled gently on the sleeve of the haughtily beautiful young man at her side. Inclining her head, she alerted him to the presence of the stranger. His eyes followed the tilt of the dark haired girl, his eyes took in the young woman and he agreed with the unspoken observation. As the girl seemed unaware of their surveillance, he could scope out whom she was with, and if they posed an obstacle.

Sarah could hear the happy voices of her companions, and had agreed with comments that Lizzie was making about how moving a service it had been when a voice at the top of the steps caught her unawares. Sharply Sarah turned, not believing her own ears; she expected to see an outlandishly dressed figure from her past. But standing with the priest was a very disturbed Blanche Abbott who seemed to be giving the poor pastor an ear full that he was not happy about receiving. When the woman made a demonstrative hand motion toward Hattie and the girls under her wing, Sarah gulped guiltily. About to avert her eyes, she felt someone brush against her, she turned to excuse herself but was brought to a standstill. Her senses were assailed by spice, rare and exotic and memorable.

It was Lizzie who noticed Sarah begin to sway and reached for her. "Sarah," she exclaimed as the girl last her equilibrium. "Sarah."

The man in the elegant suit, accompanied by the elderly gent moved on, as if he had not noticed the girl's reaction to his presence. Hattie saw the ghost of a smirk cross the face of the handsome man, and shook her head before placing a hand under Sarah's elbow. She gave the girl extra support and waved off the concerns of Kristy and Lizzie. "Too much emotion and excitement," she said gently. "Sarah needs to have a nice cup of chamomile tea, something to eat, and a good night's sleep."

"I feel so silly," Sarah said as she fully recovered.

"Come Char," Hattie encouraged her to walk and drew her close.

--

Once home Hattie requested tea and little tea cakes in the parlor. She listened to the girls impressions of the service, and of Pere Jacque. She told the girls that they would of course have the Priest to dinner during their stay. "Now off to bed, you'll be sleeping in of course," Hattie teased. "And when you awaken, there will be fresh baked Croissants," she kissed Kristy and accepted a genuinely affectionate hug from both Lizzie and Sarah. Watching the girls move up the stairs she kept the frown from creasing her brow. Once they had closed their door, Hattie moved into the parlor and stared up at the image of Jolie Bodine. "So, your old friend returns, eh my love?" she questioned the silent image. "Well, one can only wonder why… or more importantly… for who?" She pursued her lips, and sighed. "Yes, for who?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

The girl with hostile eyes and long curled tresses sat beside the haughty young man in the back of the limo at their disposal. She peeled off the lace gloves she wore and stuffed them into the seat beside her. "So what do you think, Gyles? A candidate, no?" she asked huskily.

The young man gazed back with disinterest. "You have my admiration on your gift of vision, Jolene," his voice was like silk, but not pleasantly so. "Who will miss yet another silly Northerner who goes astray during Spring break?" His tone made his thoughts on tourists evident. He detested the despicable creatures, and only tolerated them as they gave his some diversion. "She'll make a fine Loa Gift Candidate."

Curling into her brother's shoulder, the attractive woman purred. "But let us have some fun with her first, eh?"

"As long as you remember that a sacrifice must remain pure," he warned sternly. "I'll not have this Loa gift corrupted before the sacrifice." Frostily he shrugged her off his shoulder. "I've not forgiven you your last mistake as yet."

"Gyles Norichace," she admonished with humor. "You were just as eager as I," dark violet eyes glowed in the dim light of the back seat of the limo, giving the woman an eerie and sinister appearance. "I will not sit here and take all the blame for your troubles." Jolene Norichace and her brother were beautiful heartless cold-blooded killers. She had long ago stopped counting the fools who'd fallen prey to their needs. Instead she chose to enjoy the fruits of her lifestyle. Well educated, and of an eminent noteworthy dynasty, she was spoiled and jaded. Given too much, she dressed with a slightly gothic influence these days. Even tonight for church she'd worn a dress that was slightly scandalous. The amethyst colored velvet was trimmed with gray lace and taffeta under skirting, and she wore a pair of serious platform heels. Jolene's head was covered with an amethyst velvet and gray taffeta gothic styled top hat that matched her dress. Her too red lips pursed at her brother. "I was not the one who went overboard with your last little pet."

Gyles chuckled softly, "Alright, I'll allow this one pass." Crossing his right leg over his left he looked out at the darkness of the night. The attractive man chuckled remembering the incident vividly, "I suppose it was not _**all**_ your fault after all." He breathed deeply. "However, sister dearest, I would have you remember that I intend to be the most powerful Vodou priest that N`Orleans has ever seen," his voice was hard as flint, "To achieve that I must have a pure sacrifice this time. They who will receive the gift will not appreciate it if it comes tainted. I would never insult the spirits who I wish to gain power from."

"Dr. John LaFayette won't like that," she teased shaking her head side to side, making her curls bounce. "Papa John thinks _**he's**_ the power in N`Oleans." Now she twirled a bit of her long hair, curling it over her index finger coquettishly. "He'll stop you if he gets a chance."

"John LaFayette is afraid of the true power of Voodou," Gyles glowered refusing to even give sanction to the other man's title. "I am not."

Jolene smiled, preening and simpering. "For this I am glad."

Gyles looked out the window once more, "We will set into motion the events that will trap our little mouse." He chuckled softly as Jolene purred suggestively in his ear.

--

Jareth casually tossed his white linen gloves onto the creamy white Carrara marble top of the stately Victorian styled dresser that was used as an entry table. It was something he'd picked up in his travels, and it just fit the foyer perfectly with its height and crowing moldings, not to mention the fine walnut burl and the brass pulls on the dovetailed drawers. Having come upon this piece Jareth scoured the world for more Eastlake pieces, not truly satisfied until most of the interior of the plantation house was decorated in the elegant and understated style. Shrugging out of his over coat and handing it over to Anton he checked his appearance in the mirror, and smiled as he passed by assured of his form.

Artemis was less fussy about his appearance and merely tossed his gloves down besides those of the King before also giving his coat to the manservant. "That was a lovely service," he said as they entered the parlor for refreshments. "One must appreciate the pageantry and the solemnity of the ceremony." He spoke from the perspective of course of a Scholar. "The priest seemed to be full of passion."

Taking his seat before the fireplace in an Eastlake Master armchair in soft sage green velvet with a tufted back; he looked every inch the Master of this home. "Pere Jacque is by far one of the most gifted pastors in the area, an orator without an equal. It will be a pity when he retires; he is so much a part of that parish. I doubt they will be able to survive without his guidance."

One of the parlor maids entered with the evening's light fare for the men to partake of before retiring. Taking a few grapes and a pate` cracker, Artemis reclined gently into the chair opposite Jareth's. "Who was that lovely girl who reacted so strongly to your presence?"

"That would be Sarah Williams," Jareth chuckled. "Delightful surprise that my charisma and allure still can touch her. She looked for a moment as if she'd seen a ghost," he chuckled as he picked up one of Estelle's little peach chutney smoked pheasant tea sandwiches. "Keeping an eye on her will be easy," he said with confidence.

"So that's the famous young lady," Artemis remarked thoughtfully. "I don't think keeping track of her will be as easy as you think," observed the Scholar. "Did you not notice that young couple watching her?" He finished his repast, "They seemed to show a marked interest in her, I would think they mean some kind of mischief." He yawned, barely covering his wide gapping mouth with his hand. "Forgive me, Sire… I'm over tired."

"Go to bed Artemis, it's been a very long day for you," the King said rising to his feet. "Tomorrow is Easter, I've no doubt word of my being here has reached certain persons of importance who will be seeking me out to receive them tomorrow." He put a hand to the back of the Scholar, "Go to bed old man."

"You're older than I," quipped the Scholar with a wicked smile, heading for the stairs.

"Not that it shows," Jareth retorted. "Come along, I too am turning in."

As if the thought had just occurred to him Artemis paused, slightly flustered, "What if there is a summons," he asked.

"It will be answered," Jareth assured him pushing him toward the staircase. "This house is connected to the Labyrinth. All is in order, now really Artemis we need to get some sleep, its half past three. The sun will be up in only a few hours, and even the most polite of the curious will not be able to wait much past noon."

--

Sarah awoke to the sun streaming into wide window; she opened one eye and then the other. For a moment she could not recall where she was until Lizzie sat up and complained about the birds singing outside the window. Feeling more rested than she had in months; Sarah stretched and greeted the day. "Morning," she yawned to Lizzie who was placing a pillow over her head to block out the sun and birds. She was certain that whatever it was Lizzie had mumbled in response was neither pleasant nor congenial.

Coming out of the bath suite, Kristy smiled over at Sarah. "Morning sleepy head," she greeted her with more and more accent in her voice. "I thought you would sleep all day."

"It's still early," protested Sarah turning to see the clock, "Oh that can't be the time!"

"It is," Kristy said as she moved to the closet, "Best be getting in the shower quickly, I have to wake up that lump…" she pointed to Lizzie. "Tatie` Hattie has a tradition of a lovely Champagne brunch on Easter Sunday, about midday. She holds off on dinner until the evening."

Sarah looked over at Lizzie's prone form. "Give me a ten minute head start, than wake her." Sarah said jumping out of her daybed and rushing toward the open bath suite. "I'll be ready in a flash."

Kristy laughed lightly, "Take your time; it's going to take a sledgehammer to wake this one."

Like everything else in the Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason house, the bath was elegant and blessedly functional. It was in hues of rose much like the pretty room Hattie had placed the girls in. The porcelain fixtures were stylish and modern, right down to the whirlpool bathtub and the shower with multiple heads. The hardware in this lovely space was in antique gold, and had been lovingly polished. It was a light, airy room that made one feel not just clean but in blissful high spirits. Sarah emerged, refreshed and squeaky clean just in time to witness Kristy literally pull Lizzie out of the canopy bed she was buried in. Knowing discretion was the better part of velour, and wishing to live to see another day Sarah covered the guffaw caught in her throat.

Lizzie, once out of the bed, looked at Kristy with hooded eye lids and mumbled something about the other girl's parentage being in question. However it didn't faze the determined Kristy. "Get moving you cow," she ordered. Lizzie grumbled but crawled up to her hands and knees, then rose up and stumbled off to the bath. Kristy turned to Sarah and crinkled her nose, something she did whenever she'd triumphed over some obstacle. "What do you plan to wear today," Kristy sauntered over.

"What does one wear to one of your Aunt's brunches?" Sarah asked as she opened the walk in closet the three were sharing. "I'd like to dress properly, you know," she waved about their surroundings, "Keeping with the traditions and in honor of our hostess."

"Dressy casual," Kristy said taking out a cream silk blouse of her own and a pair of deep amethyst colored slacks. She pointed to a green jersey blouse of Sarah's. "That will make your eyes look like emeralds, and if you pair it up with your black dress slacks, it will look very proper."

"Thanks," Sarah said pulling the suggested garments, "Left on my own, I'd have worn something a bit more casual."

"I doubt that," Kristy said knowing the other girl was being polite in asking for dressing advice. "I've seen how you dress for two years, girl friend! Your taste in clothes is fine."

"Fine for up north," Corrected Sarah as she dressed. "This is not New York, nor is it the same."

Kristy dressed quickly as well, "No, perhaps not the same, but your taste in clothes is fine. Better than most, I'd say."

"It's different here," admitted the dark haired girl pulling her little black ballet slipper styled shoes one. "You feel like you need to make an extra effort." When Kristy gave her a funny gaze, Sarah added. "I don't know if it's this house and your aunt or the South in general… but it's different here."

"She's right," mumbled the still sluggish Lizzie, now heading for the closet herself wrapped in a wide bath towel. "It's different down here." When she emerged from the closet she was nearly fully dressed. "One feels an emotional obligation to be more…refined."

"Exactly," Sarah agreed.

The expression on Kristy's face was one of astonishment, "I guess because I'm more or less a part of this lifestyle down here, I never saw it that way. It's just something you grow up with."

Lizzie had chosen a camel colored Charmeuse blouse and tan slacks and elegant Prada shoes that matched the hues in her blouse. It gave the blonde a hint of more color to her features, and like her friends she too had decided against wearing jewelry. "That's the way I feel about having been part of the New York social scene, it's just something you grow up with."

"I don't have that up in Nyack," Sarah complained. "Or if we do, I don't think I was ever part of it."

"Nonsense," Kristy giggled. "Your mother is a stage actress, and your father is one of the most important legal eagles in the state. You were just more sheltered, and you should really thank them for that!"

Nodding her agreement, Lizzie added. "You've never had to wonder if people liked you for you, or for your station in life."

"No, I don't suppose I did, except for the autograph hounds looking for my mother's signature." Sarah said following them out of the bedroom. From the lower floor an aroma of fresh bread was wafting on the air. Sarah breathed it in deeply. "Now, I'm hungry!"

Hattie was giving last minute instructions to one of her maids when the girls entered the dining room. "Good morning," she greeted them, "I hope you all slept well and had beautiful dreams." Her hands rested easily on the back of the cream and gold French provincial dining chair. "And you ladies are just in time." Today she was not dressed in black; on the contrary she wore a tan Givenchy pant suit with a gold silk blouse under the open jacket. She looked as if she'd just stepped of the runway of the spring fashion Show in Paris.

Every room in the charming house had been exquisitely decorated with loving care. The dining room was no exception in tones of gold and cream making the dining set stand out even more than it would have in any other setting. On the table was Hattie's treasured Royal Albert Bone China White Dogwood dishes that were used only on special occasions such as Easter and Christmas brunches. _**Cristal d'Arques**_ Longchamp stemware graced the table, sparkling in the bright sunlight pouring into the room from the long dramatic windows. Sarah looked at what was in the frosty glasses rather than the glasses themselves, half of a perfect peach floating in a sea of icy cold bubbly champagne. Staring at the floating object Sarah's face blanched.

"Is something amiss," Hattie asked looking at the direction her guest was staring. Hattie had suspicions, but needed to test her theories.

"No," Sarah said a bit too quickly, "Nothing." She smiled at her hostess. "I've never seen champagne served like that."

"Ah," Hattie thought there were more to it but covered for the girl. "I know that a Mimosa is very popular for one of these brunches most everywhere else, however this is N`Oleans, and here the peach is king!" She saw Sarah wince slightly and pretended not to notice. "I can have Katie-bell remove it and bring you a plain glass…" she suggested lightly.

"No," Sarah protested now sure she didn't want to stand out. "It will be fine…" Sarah for over four years had not been able to look at a peach without being suspicious. Memories lasted for the girl, and the peach was something she was not likely to forget. However she decided that it was most likely safe seeing it was Hattie serving it. "I didn't think they were in season."

"There are some of my finest canned peaches," crowed Hattie proudly. "The tree was a gift from a very dear friend, and every year I can and preserve the best of the fruit." She took Sarah's face in her hand, caressing the younger girl's chin. "I'm sure you'll find their flavor enchanting." She crinkled her nose mimicking her niece's habit. "You will all find your name cards at the place you are to sit." She motioned for them to be seated, ran a bell and Roberts oversaw the serving of the brunch. Raising her own champagne chilled peach, Hattie toasted her guests, "Happy Easter, my filles."

Sarah had little choice but to raise her glass and sip. She had to admit Hattie had been right, it was an enchanting combination. The peach flavor in the wine was sublet, and disarming. Sarah took a second sip, and pushed the unpleasant distressing memory of the night a peach had changed her life out of her thoughts. This was the house of a New Orleans socialite, not the Labyrinth of the Goblin King. "Your right Mrs. Mason… it's enchanting."

Pensively Hattie broached a subject, "If you girls insist on calling me Mrs. Mason, you're going to make feel ancient. And to say all my last names would take far too long. How about if for the duration of your stay you address me as Tatie` Hattie like Char Kristy does?" she suggested hopeful they would be amenable.

Lizzie answered for both Sarah and herself, "We'd love it."

Roberts made sure the girls serving were prompt with each of the brunch courses. Fresh fruit compotes, followed by warm buttery split Croissants and eggs Benedict with thin slices of prosciutto ham topping them and a few spears of fiddle top asparagus all covered in a fresh Hollandaise with a hint of lemon. Roberts and the staff were pleased to see how much the Widow's guest was enjoying the elegant brunch. The last course served was the sweets; Katie-bell rolled a cart out to the dining room laden with a variety of Cheese Cakes, Citrus Tarts, Pecan Bourbon Torte, and little Cherries Jubilee stuffed Crepes.

Hattie watched her guests, "Well you girls seemed to have enjoyed that." She teased and looked at her watch. "Kristy, the district's egg hunt is being held at one, Stevens will drive you girls over to watch. Then he'll return you girls when it's over."

"Won't you be joining us," Kristy asked quietly.

"No," Hattie said shaking her head, "I've an appointment that will not keep." She stood up. "I shall be back later this afternoon, when you return from your egg hunt watching feel free to enjoy the house. I will join you young ladies for dinner, until then," she blew a kiss toward them.

Lizzie watched the woman exit the room with more style and grace than a human should be capable of. "What a woman," she praised.

"Indeed," Kristy said taking her aunt's place as hostess. "The Egg Hunt is only for children, but it is something you should not miss." She agreed with her aunt's opinion. "I suggest we freshen up and I'm sure Stevens will have the car ready when we get back down her."

--

Hattie walked out to the carriage house, beside the limo there was a sporty little Magnolia colored Rolls-Royce Corniche. The leather was Chocolate hide piped in Magnolia trim. It was one of Hattie's treasured possessions, her baby as she referred to it often. She slid into the drivers' seat with ease, and started the engine to listen to the purring. She wrapped a tan and gold silk scarf over her hair to keep from damaging her coiffure in the wind. Checking herself in the mirror she pulled out of her carriage house, and then out of her drive. As she headed out to highway ten, she began to wonder just what it was she was going to say when she arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

Having risen earlier than his Scholar, having shooed a dozen mischievous little goblins back out of the house, Jareth was now seated in the breakfast room sipping on fresh Louisiana styled coffee liberally laced with chicory. He heard Artemis' approached, turned his head and greeted the Scholar. "Good morning old man, did you sleep well?"

"No," Artemis complained bitterly. "I had a floorshow going on," he smiled at the little maid who poured his coffee. "I have no idea what gave them the idea that I wanted to watch them cavort at five in the morning."

"They are just excited," Jareth snorted thinking of the sight of his little subjects. "You think you had it bad, they tried to bring a fresh hen into the house. Anton threatened to blacken their hides!"

Monique entered the breakfast room with the cart full of platters for both gentlemen. "Your Quail omelets sire," she addressed Jareth politely. "And we have some lovely Tasso and tomato chutney and of course fresh Croissants. Estelle thought you might like a bit of her peach preserves." She placed the various covered serving dishes on the table. "If you need anything, ring." She gave them a curt bow then respectfully exited the room.

"Such a lovely child," Artemis remarked thoughtfully before he looked at the light spread placed for them to enjoy. "You do realize that some of your subjects back home would be surprised to find you having such diminutive servings and such delicate dishes."

"A man can only handle so much of the rich foods before he needs to cleanse his palate," Jareth mused as he cut into the delicate frothy omelet set before him. The light scoop of Tasso and tomato chutney on the side gave color and added flavor. "I'd like to think that I have a wide variety of tastes and choices, Artemis."

"Well I doubt Lady Rosalind would picture you eating Quail egg omelets," the Scholar quipped.

Shuddering at the mention of the Lady from his kingdom, Jareth moaned. "Don't speak of her again, please…"

Artemis had heard there had been difficulties between the King and the Lady. He wondered if it were going to result in her being barred from court. "I mean no disrespect," he said as he moved his food on his plate. "It is just that I understood that at one time you were fond of the Lady."

"I was," Jareth admitted between bites, "She was at one time someone whose opinion I valued. However she overstepped the bounds of our friendship, and while I will not request that she leaves the Kingdom, I will not be seeking out her view on any subject." Jareth gave Artemis a meaningful glance, it was a warning he hoped the Scholar would be quick to pick up upon.

Seeing they were at an impasse, Artemis changed the subject entirely. "You made mention before we retired that you were expecting guests. This being Easter Sunday, would that not be odd?"

"Not at all," Jareth said once more as ease and his pleasant demeanor returning. "You see there are certain obligations of station still enforced here in the N`orleans community. No matter what high holiday of sacred feast day," Jareth looked out at the sunny day and his garden. "Some will make only a momentarily brief appearance, just to keep the lines of communications open. However there will be several who will need more than a few moments. Most of the visitors will be here with pleasantries, one or two will not."

The Scholar nodded, "Understood, Sire." He worked on finishing his breakfast. "I must say I was not aware of the unusual flavors of your~ Kreyol Lwiziyen cuisine."

"I'm very glad you are enjoying it," Jareth commented as he spread Estelle's famous preserves on a still warm Croissant. "However you'll find here on the plantation we have a mixture of Kreyol Lwiziyen and Cajun cuisines. That Tasso was made here, in our own smoke house, and everything else in the tomato chutney was grown here as well."

"Self sufficient," questioned the Scholar.

"In many ways yes," Jareth agreed, "With reasons." Having eaten an elegant sufficiency, Jareth pushed his plate to the side. "Although we are part of the local community, due to our mystical nature we must remain slightly detached. Not unapproachable or unfriendly to our neighbors, just separate." Once more he sipped his coffee.

Feeling full without being overly weighed down, Artemis looked at the mundane twelve houred clock that hung on the wall. It was very like one of the clocks that was in the Labyrinth Kingdom, save for the missing Fae Hour. "At what time do you imagine the first of your visitors will arrive?"

Jareth also looked over at the clock, "I would say, knowing the polite society rules that work here we can expect the first of our guests about one." He rose from the table. "That gives us perhaps half an hour to allow our breakfast to settle." Looking the picture of a true Southern Gentleman, Jareth gave his Scholar a sociable invitation. "I find that a leisurely walk after meals helps the digestive system, would you care to accompany me?"

The smile that was given to the Scholar was returned, "I'd be delight." Artemis rose from the table with more grace than he'd ever shown in the Labyrinth rooms he occupied. It seemed the mystical properties of the Labyrinth and the bayou were working their magic on the slender delicate man. Even his garments seemed more proportioned to his lithe frame. A hint of accent kissed his words, having seeped into his being without his knowledge or perhaps with his silent consent.

The gardens at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation were in the early stages of blooming. Even so there was color and Azaleas and Jonquils as well as Daffodils of various hues graced the path of the garden that was laid out with a low hedge like a Labyrinth. Shad trees and blossoming trees dotted the space. A few Magnolias and some of the Crab apple were already in bloom. That the Crape Myrtle was blooming ahead of schedule didn't seem to bother the king or the other inhabitants of the plantation. The air filled with a warm heady fragrance of flowering trees, shrubs and herbs. Jareth walked at an unhurried laissez-faire pace, appearing a bit more youthful than he usually did in the castle beyond the Goblin city. The restorative properties of the atmosphere and the slowed down measure of life tempo here were working wonders on his disposition. Just before one, they returned to the covered patio outside the back entrance of the plantation house. Anton had seen to it that iced mint tea was already on the table awaiting their return. Jareth reposed in his fan backed wicker chair, enjoying his home.

--

Hattie was grateful there was little traffic this Sunday afternoon. Those who were local were either at diner with family or at one of the many Easter Egg Hunts that every parish held. She didn't really wish to explain to a parish gossip such as Blanche Abbott what she was doing driving out to _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. Having been the subject of that woman's waspish tongue once too often, she valued her privacy. Besides, her business at the plantation was hers and hers alone.

The handsome gates to the plantation had been open for well over a century. There was no need to shut them as unwanted guests didn't stay long. And no one who was local was loco enough to try and take anything away from the mysterious estate. Hattie loved the oak trees that lined the drive, with their picturesque Spanish moss hanging and swinging lazily in the warm breeze. The widow understood that hers was a unique relationship with the owner of this estate. That being one of the few who could call upon the master of this plantation without an invitation or a summons. Parking her Rolls under one of the oaks, she exited the vehicle and quietly shut the door. She was certain that the occupant of the house was expecting guests, but perhaps not she, and for an unfathomable reason she wanted to observe him before he knew she was there.

Stepping softly, she made her way about the lower level promenade until she reached the corner of the house where the rear promenade was situated. For a moment or more she stood there listening to the gentile and sociably pleasant conversation. Stepping out of the shadow, drawing attention she lowered her sunglasses and pursing her lips she spoke in the thicker Kreyol Lwiziyen used with family and familiars. "Well, looks what the ill winds blow in," she rasped. "I thought me eyes be deceiving me, but no… here you be…" She crossed her arms akimbo and huffed.

"Hattie," Jareth questioned softly, rising from his seat he called out more excitedly and move swiftly toward her. "Hattie!"

Putting a hand out to stop his advance, she growled. "What you here for? You planning on making trouble," her voice was sharp as a sword. "Because if you are, I'm warning you, I be making the juju against you!"

"Now Hattie," he reasoned using the same thick accent. "What for you want to make such angry speeches, come give us a welcoming kiss." He teased extending his arms toward her.

"You think me gone addle?" she slapped his hands away. "Kissing the Goblin King?"

Artemis looked at the pair in surprise, he wondered how the very pretty woman knew Jareth, and more interesting to him was how she knew his title and station. He found it amusing to see Jareth so relaxed and easy with someone outside his court.

"I think you be one of de most charming hostesses in N`Orleans." Jareth purred, putting on an innocent face. "Why you no call me no more?"

"You tak me for fool?" Hattie wagged a finger in the face of the King. "What brings you to me city, and don't you be telling me lies."

Defensively Jareth glared back at the widow, "Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason, you know dem well I have a home and businesses here. I have every right to be here!"

"You up to something," Hattie accused, "Home and business not why you in church!"

Unable to counter the accusation, Jareth shrugged. "Maybe," he said defeated. "I'm here, if you must know, as a favor to a…friend."

"Dis friend got a name?" Hattie demanded coolly.

"Of course he got a name," Jareth scoffed as he turned away. "It be Tobias," he put an edge on his tone, hoping she'd back down.

"Tobias what," backing down was not in her nature when she felt someone was threatening someone dear to her.

Jareth glared at her, it only made her face more determined. "Fine," he conceded. "Tobias Williams, are you happy?"

Her face softened, "So it is Sarah you come looking for." Her voice was too pleased; she looked at the table and pointed. "You no ask me to tea?"

Artemis took that cue and poured a glass from the large pitcher on the table. "Allow me, dear lady." He offered her the glass as she took a seat. "Artemis LeClaire at your service."

"Bonn apré midi Monsieur," she greeted him graciously, accepting the glass from his hands. "Welcome to N`Orleans."

Jareth took his seat once more and looked at the widow with peaked interest. "How do you know I'm here for Sarah?"

"Char," she admonished. "How long I be knowing you, eh? Some twenty some years? You think I not aware of them you touch?" she sipped the tea, "But ami, let me warn you… if you mean that child harm…"

"Nothing of the sort," Jareth put on his courtly face and manners. "I'm here at the request of her little brother just to keep an eye on her…"

"An eye?" Hattie asked incredulous.

"I've other business while I'm here," Jareth said in a reasonable tone. "Sarah most likely won't even know I'm here."

"Ah huh," Hattie didn't sound as if she believed that for a moment. She looked over at Artemis, "He lies like a rug," she quipped. Covering his chuckle, Artemis winked at the widow.

Anton cleared his throat politely to announce his presence. "Monsieur Pommeroi, you have a guest… Dr. John LaFayette is calling."

"Send him out," Jareth said with a smile, he looked over at Artemis, "I told you we'd be reciving callers." He stood to receive the first of the expected official callers. "Bonn apré midi Monsieur LaFayette," he greeted the older white haired man as he came out of the house. "Good to see you again."

"Bonn apré midi Monsieur Pommeroi, welcome home." John returned the greeting in a soft spoken gentile manner. "I see the widow had preceded me," He bowed toward Hattie, "Madame."

Jareth then introduced the Dr. to his Scholar. "Dr. John LaFayette, this is Artemis LeClaire, my personal Attaché and assistant." Artemis rose to his feet, offering his hand to the other gent.

""Bonn apré midi Monsieur," John responded.

"Merci," Artemis said with a pleased expression at having the right inflection in his voice. "Tea," he offered.

"Thank you," John said taking the seat Jareth was motioning for him to be seated in. "I will not say I was not surprised at your… appearance." He informed Jareth. "I would not insult your intelligence."

"Thank you, John," Jareth replied with laissez-faire. "I take it the local Duiens have no problem with my return."

"Not in our sector, I cannot answer for the congregations of Dada Angelo or Mama Tessa." John stated confidently.

"I can answer for me self," a gruff bass voice said from the entry to the patio from the house. A large black man, dressed in a gray suit with a bright red shirt stood smiling widely. "Monsieur Pommeroi," he extending a hand that was decked out in large expensive rings. "Welcome home."

"Dada," Jareth accepted the hand offered, "Come sit, have some tea, Artemis, kindly pour."

The large man took a seat on a stone bench that was opposite the wall Jareth's back was up against. "We thank you for the notice that you were in residence," he looked over at Hattie, and bowed his head to her. "Madame Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason, it is good to see you once more."

"Dada," she greeted him with equal warmth.

"Mama Tessa will be paying her respects on the morrow," the big man stated, "She and her congregation are in the bayou all day today, as you are aware." He sipped his tea, "I can however express the same sentiments from her people as from mine, we are… curious as to what brings you home."

"Spring break," Jareth said offhandedly.

"Ah," Dada responded coolly, once more taking a sip of tea. "This should prove interesting, at the least."

Hattie snickered and Jareth shot a warning glace her way to no avail. He returned his gaze to both the male leaders of the Vodou community. "I am not expecting problems. Nor am I anticipating contact with most of the locals."

"You might find that impossible," warned Dada looking over to Dr. John for support. "Papa John and I both have reason to be apprehensive."

"Indeed," Jareth's brow rose. "What has happened?"

Dr. John picked up the thread of thought that Dada hand opened. "There is a new influence in town," he said with guarded thoughts. "A new congregation of a tradition that is not… traditional." Placing his glass back on the table he looked at Jareth with deep concern. "It is part of this~ Goth movement."

"I see," Jareth sighed. "Well if they don't step on my toes, I will not step on theirs."

"That may be harder than you anticipate," Hattie stated with an understanding of what it was that drew the Goblin King in the first place. "At church last night your little friend Miss Williams drew more attention than just yours, Char." She tapped her fingers on the table lightly. "The Norichace were there, and seemed very interested in Sarah."

"Norichace," Jareth repeated the name quizzically. "I don't recall them as being founding family."

"They are not," Dada said coldly. "But they are rich, money made on the backs of broken fortunes from the war."

"One step up from carpetbaggers," slurred Dr. John with disdain.

Jareth turned to Hattie, "What do you know of them," he inquired.

"They are dark," Hattie stated with a schooled expression. "Darker than most of their followers realize. Too much money no restraints and spoiled to the point of being blasé about the health and welfare of others. They became bored, and began to delve into the magix, the more they got involved, the darker their interest became. But it is not a true Vodou they follow… more a bastardation and corrupted version. They don't even follow the accepted calendar."

"And you say they were interested in Sarah?" Jareth asked.

"They sit up in the front of the church near Blanche Abbott and her family… thinking themselves more important." Hattie speculated. "They were behind you when you greeted Pare Jacque." She shrugged. "I will do what I can to assure the safety of my niece and her friends."

Thoughtfully Jareth steepled his fingers and placed them at his lips. "I should like to remain anonymous, if possible," he informed the gathered heads of magic in New Orleans. "Sarah should not have to know I'm here, unless there's real trouble." He turned his head, hearing a commotion coming from the house. "Oh dear," he warned. "We are about to be joined by the local constable."

Each of the guests pasted on a placid smile as the officer shoved his way gruffly past Anton. "I should have known you'd be holding some kind of meeting," he gruffly growled at Jareth. "See here Pommeroy…"

"That's Pommeroi," Jareth corrected with a pleasant smile. "Sheriff Daniels."

"Eh," the burly officer narrowed his eyes at the land owner. "I don't give a rats ass what you're calling yourself." He snapped. "I'm here to tell you I want no trouble while you're here… and how long you planning on staying this time?" he demanded gruffly.

"My business concerns will keep me in town at least two weeks," Jareth informed the law official congenially.

Suspicious of the gathering of New Orleans heads of the various studies of magic, the sheriff snorted, "Any chance of you getting done sooner?"

"None," Jareth stated coolly.

Threateningly the man placed his hands on the gun belt at his hip. "My eye is on you and your kind," he told them all. "I want no trouble, get me?" Turning before there was a reply he shoved his way past the butler once more.

"Most unpleasant man," Hattie commented as the group relaxed once more.

"Well he's not his predecessor," agreed the Goblin King. "Sheriff Morgan was Creole, this man is…"

"A cracker," Dada guffawed in his deep bass lightly.

Dr. John cautioned discretion, "He may not be Morgan, but he is the legal voice of the community and was duly elected." He stood up and before he offered his hand in parting to the Goblin King he said carefully. "If nothing else we owe him respect for his office."

"Agreed," Jareth took the offered hand. "John, I may be calling upon you."

"Whatever you need," John assured his long time associate.

"Thank you," Jareth said.

Dada stood as well, "I too must be rushing along, the family has dinner cooking and they cannot eat without me." He too extended his hand to the tall blond, "Jay, should you have need, we are there for you." He bowed slightly and departed.

Jareth turned toward Hattie, "And do I also have the support of the sorciere and N`Orleans Wischard?"

"For now," Hattie stated with a stern gaze. "As long as you no cause trouble for me and mine, I won't cause trouble for you and yours."

Grimly the man with stormy eyes assessed her, she was serious, and he knew it. "Still have that iron fence," he asked frigidly.

"You are the reason it be there," she stated just as icily. "Morgan Mayfair did not trust you."

"Pity," Jareth quipped, "As it means I will not be returning your gracious call."

Hattie stood up, "You stay away from Sarah," she warned. "You can watch, but if you as much as touch…" her eyes hardened. "I'll break your pretty face, Char!"

"Beb," Jareth's voice dropped several octaves, now it was gravely and dangerous. "If and when I touch Sarah, it will be no concern of yours." He gave her a cold calculated lazy smile, "More tea?"

Standing with her hands on the table, Hattie shook her head. "I have guests at home, and I must be seeing to them. Remember my warning, Jareth… stay away from Sarah." She picked up her purse preparing to leave.

Jareth gripped her upper arm and looked her in the eye. "My being here was a promise, and I keep my promises, as you know~ Hattie."

Her face was sober, "Understood, Roi."

He eased the grip of his fingers. "Hattie, we have never been at odds, we are not enemies."

"Let us keep it that way, Char." She agreed. "Have a lovely dinner, Char… and a pleasant stay."

"Bonswa amie!" he whispered in a low rasp.

"Bonswa, ami," she replied in parting. She looked over at Artemis, "It was lovely meeting you, Monsieur."

Standing and reaching for her hand, the smitten Scholar raised her hand and gently kissed her fingers. "The pleasure was all mine Madame," a flush of color tinged Hattie's cheeks attractively. She smiled at both men and moved gracefully away. Artemis turned to the Goblin King, and with one hand pulled on the long mustache he wore pridefully. "That is quite a woman," he glowered.

"You old dog!" Jareth teased, "You're taken with her."

"Indeed I am," Artemis agreed. "Indeed I am."

Seating himself again, Jareth regarded his Scholar, "I've never seen you so…"

"Infatuated?" suggested the man of letters, "Or perhaps besotted."

"Wonders will never cease," Jareth mused, "First I'm infatuated with a mortal girl and now you with a~ Creole witch."

Artemis shrugged, "An enchantress by any other name, my boy."

"You dirty old man," Jareth tossed his napkin at him. "You are not fooling me!"

Taking a more composed stance, Artemis let one bushy brow climb slowly. "And do you think for one moment you fooled them or I, sire?"

Jareth smiled, "I wasn't trying."

"Don't," advised the scholar. "You should never burn bridges when rivers need to be crossed."

Closing his stormy eyes and breathing in the late afternoon fragrances, Jareth sighed. "Touché."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

The girls returned from their outing shortly before three. Rather than be indoors on such a lovely day they sat on the patio in the pleasant sunshine. Roberts saw to it that they were served cooling glasses of mint tea. They shared their impressions of the egg hunt and the pleasant neighbors that they encountered. Sarah leaned back on the chaise lounge that she was occupying. "So who was that woman last night," she asked with candor, "The one who demanded to know who we were and was so unpleasant to your aunt?"

"That would be Mrs. Blanche Abbott, the reigning matron of the Abbott clan." Kristy rolled her eyes. "That woman gives me the creeps, so condescending and uppity."

Lizzie chuckled, "I know the type," she agreed, "One of those who gauge others by her families ranking in the community, and even looks down on those above her rank."

"Oh she's worse, papa said she clawed her way up out of a alligator pit," nodding Kristy went on. "Mrs. Abbott is on every committee that matters in the Garden District, and she's head of the Ladies Sodality at Good Council. God help you if she doesn't like or approve of you. Here in the Garden District, or at least in Good Council Parish, she can make life a living hell… I know firsthand."

"Ah," Sarah sighed as she relaxed into the cushion behind her, "So does she attack every visitor?"

Uncomfortable with this conversation, Kristy shook her head. "I've never seen her go after anyone quite the way she went after us, but she was looking at you Sarah."

"I must remind her of someone she does not like," Sarah giggled.

"That could be almost anyone," Kristy admitted, she tapped her lips gently with her hand. "I wonder if she's acquainted with your mother."

Sarah laughed, "That could be possible, Linda works anywhere and everywhere she can." Not willing to give up on the subject, Sarah asked. "How is it she didn't recognize you?"

"Will of God," Kristy sighed, "I had the misfortune of having to be partnered with her middle son, Herbert, at a church social when we were both thirteen. Miserable boy, I am sure he'll be just as miserable man!" She shuddered, "Horrible family."

Lizzie stretched lazily in the sun, "Kristy," she said changing the subject. "I wonder that you ever leave here. Things here are just so gentile."

"Oh I'd have gone to school here if Tatie` Hattie had any say, and I would have stayed here in the house with her as my guardian," she disclosed peacefully. "She fought papa tooth and nail, but had to give up. Papa wanted me to have a wider experience than he felt I would receive here at Tulane University." She fidgeted and hoped her friends had not noticed.

"How on earth did your father end up way up north?" Lizzie asked making a face.

"Someone had to manage the holdings up north," Kristy teased back. "And Southern men only trust their own selves to take care of family business."

"I've never felt so relaxed." Sarah interjected her thoughts into the conversation, "Or so lazy." Her arms flopped at her sides to emphasize her state. "It's like heaven here." Her voice took on a slight southern twang. "Why I could just curl up and die of pure pleasure."

"Why, Miss Sarah," Kristy teased, "You southern belle, you!"

"Yeah, out o Nyack," teased Lizzie, however it was evident that she too was under the spell of the Southern customs. Lizzie was talking much more slowly, and with ease, not rushing to make sure she got to everything she needed to. Lizzie was use to opulence, having been brought up in the lap of luxury. However this was the first time she'd ever slowed down enough to enjoy it.

Rolling to her side, the dark haired girl looked at her roomies. "I envy your aunt," she addressed her statement to Kristy. "She's so vivacious! So full of life and cheerful."

"No argument there," Kristy said with a hint of melancholy, "Hard to believe she's had so much sorrow in her life."

Lizzie sat up at attention, "Sorrow, baby look at how she lives," she waved a hand about the well manicured yard, and the stately home. "If this is sorrow, I'll take it by the buckets full!"

Kristy looked troubled for a moment, "Come with me," she said standing up her face was now very serious; she motioned her friends to follow. "There's something you need to understand about Hattie." Solemnly she led the procession to the gallery in the foyer. She pointed to the pictures. "These are Hattie's husbands, and they are the reason she was given the cold shoulder last night when we walked to church," she pointed to the portrait closest to her. "This is her last husband; he passed two years ago…" Her hand rested gently on the frame, "This is Lance Mason married to Hattie for three years, he was a writer, dies from fall down empty elevator shaft…in New York visiting his publisher. Hattie was not with him, thank God. However the book he wrote was a scandal, and it was like tossing gasoline on a fire. Everybody here blamed Hattie for what Uncle Lance wrote, and for the money that was made off his book. It had a lot to do with a certain woman, and the men she married, and the place she lived. He more than anyone is a large part of why some neighbors are on the standoffish side to Hattie… They're afraid of a sequel," she moved to the next frame. "Todd Noel married to Hattie for two years. Gallery owner, he dies of an aneurism during a showing of Hattie's fourth husband's work. That in and of itself was a scandal, but I'll explain that later. He left her one of the most popular galleries in all N`Orleans," Her hand moved to the next frame. "This is David Devereux married to Hattie for four years, Professor at Tulane, killed in bank hold up just before he was to go to court on charges of improper conduct in his class room. I have my doubts on the charges, as did my Papa. From what I know, he was on to some corruption in his department and they wanted to get to him before he got to them. He left Hattie his fortune; he was one of the last of the Devereuxs. They were big land owners here before the civil war, and one of the few who didn't lose everything and have to rebuild. There were rumors about him belonging to some voodoo circle, and that he'd had a falling out with the high priest or some other such nonsense." Kristy shrugged and moved on to the next frame, "François Larroquette married to Hattie for four years, artist; heart-attack." She paused and frowned, "He liked to use Hattie for his model, his _**nakkid **_model and well it didn't set well with some prim and propers. There were those who actually wanted to have them banned from all the parishes. I'm sure you can guess who led the protest at Our Lady of Good Council." She tapped her fingers on the frame, "Actually he was a very gifted artist and his work was well received, everywhere but here. When Todd Noel put on a big splashy gallery show, it meant money, lots of money for the artists he showcased and for him. When he did an entire show dedicated to François Larroquette, no one expected him to have an entire collection of the Hattie Nudes in a prominent location. Todd made the Hattie nudes the focus of the show. Mrs. Abbott spread a nasty rumor that his having that aneurism during the opening of the show was God's way of punishing his wickedness." She moved on. "Morgan Mayfair married to Hattie for two years, Doctor of philology, car accident, no witnesses, no other car found… his car was obliterated, and there were strange symbols that had been imprinted, or stamped into the sheet-metal of the car. His neck was broken, but to look at him you'd never know he'd been in an accident of such magnitude. It happened out on one of the deserted roads by Lake Pontchartrain. No one could even explain what he was doing out there…" She whispered, "Papa said he was one of the most decent men he'd ever met, and I have only fleeting memories of him. He belonged to one of the founding families here, and between family money and his practice, he was extremely wealthy. But because he treated some of the men in the local prison farm; again certain folk looked down on him and Hattie for being married to him." She wiped a tear, before moving on to the last frame in the hallway gallery. "This is Rhys Halifax married to Hattie for two years; land developer, skiing accident they say. What he was doing on a slope in the dark… he told Hattie that he had business in Vermont, and Papa had to tell her that Rhys was not coming home. He left Hattie land and holdings across the United States and in some foreign countries. Some she was not even aware of, some she turned over to charity, others she sold, and she kept the ones that Papa told her would keep her very nicely," gracefully Kristy moved from the gallery to the parlor and looked up at the handsome face of her aunt's first husband. "And of course, Jolie Bodine married to Hattie for five years. The only Heir to a fortune, who died of some mysterious illness with plague like symptoms," Kristy looked at her friends.

Lizzie looked at the painting, and then at Kristy, "She had some bad luck, but …"

"She was put on trial for murder, his murder," Kristy whispered pointing at the handsome and perplexingly poignant face on the painting. "Twenty-one newly widowed and they tried to pin the death of Jolie Bodine on her." Her eyes darkened, a scowl came across her face as she glared up at the painting. "They made her life a living hell… My Uncle Robert, a lawyer defended her, and kept the state from railroading her and taking everything she had." She shuddered remembering hearing about the misfortune. "No one still knows what it was that killed Jolie, and there are those who would still point a finger at Tatie` Hattie," her voice darkened with rage that the other two never suspected existed. "Every time she thinks she's going to find happiness, some disaster befalls her loved one. Hattie is vivacious," She agreed quickly. "As long as she's not involved… It's like she was cursed…and it all goes back to him; Mrs. Abbott referrers to her as the Black Widow of Prytania Street."

A voice from the foyer caught them unaware, "Char," Hattie's tone was sympathetic and compassionate, "You must not blame Jolie for the troubles that followed," graceful as a gazelle the woman strolled unhurriedly into the parlor. "Jolie would have been the first to move heaven and earth to spare me what followed his untimely demise." She smiled gently at the girls. "Some things were out of his hands. Don't be blaming him for what others did."

Ashamed at being overheard, Kristy hung her head, "Pardon Tatie` Hattie," she whispered.

A gentle hand moved to the girls chin, "Char, I appreciate how fervent your devotion to me is," she kissed the girl. "However, there is much you have not learned. Don't be too quick to judge so harshly a man you didn't even know." She motioned the girls to be seated. "You must have questions, and I am the only one who can give you the answers." Composed and confident, Hattie took her seat, "So ask."

"No, Tatie` Hattie," Kristy said too quickly. "I should not have brought it up… You don't have to tell us anything."

"Char," Hattie admonished gently. "If you are going to air our dirty laundry, than you must be prepared to do it all." She looked at the two guests in her home. "I'm not afraid to answer questions. I have nothing to hide."

Lizzie looked embarrassed, and bit her lower lip leaving Sarah to ask the first question. "Why, why put you on trial?"

Hattie gave Sarah a wink, "Good girl, get right to the heart of the matter. Why," her voice dropped. "I have asked myself that a thousand times, and always come up with the same answer. I have no idea," she shrugged. "I really don't."

Being the daughter of a Lawyer, Sarah often tended to think like one. "Someone had to start the mess, put a bee in someone's ear. What were the exact charges?" Both Kristy and Lizzie's jaws dropped.

"I was charged with murder," Hattie said calmly.

"What was their proof?" Sarah leaned forward, fascinated by the discussion. "I know they had a dead body, but surly there had to be more to it than just that…."

"You think like a lawyer," Hattie mused.

"Her father is a lawyer," Kristy explained. "One of the best in New York State."

"ah," Hattie smiled. "Sarah, this is not New York," she cautioned.

"Law is law," Sarah argued.

"Sarah, I was twenty one, just a bit older than you are now… and my very rich and powerful husband died, leaving me a very rich and powerful woman… there were men here that didn't like that. They wanted to take everything I had away from me, and saw Jolie's mysterious death as a means to do it. They put me on trial for the murder of my husband."

"But where's the justice in that," Sarah asked boldly.

"Char," Hattie snickered, "This was and is N`Orleans, putting me on trial had nothing to do with justice."

Emboldened by Sarah's questions, Kristy leaned forward. "How did you get off, Papa said it had nothing to do with Uncle Robert's defense…"

A wisp of a smile came across Hattie's face, "I had a guardian angel looking out for me," the thought of calling the Goblin King a guardian angel appealed to her puckish side. She remembered the moment in court vividly. "Someone who asked to see the coroner's report… and the evidence gathered. An independent investigation turned up some unusual mistakes in the original report. They still had no idea of what it was that killed Jolie, but they proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had nothing to do with it." She mused. "And as the independent report was handed over to Federal officers, not local, they could not ignore it when the Attorney General of the United States demanded to review the case. Suddenly all the charges were dropped, and the railroading of the widow of Jolie Bodine ended. But not the speculations of the small minded." She sighed wistfully. "I suppose if I had just faded into obscurity they would have been happy." Pursing her lips, she became pensive. "And perhaps I would have had it not been for Rhys Halifax."

"Your second husband," questioned Lizzie, who was now hanging on every word.

"Yes," Hattie smiled again. "Rhys Halifax was a land developer who wanted to improve the area without raping the wetlands. He was not well liked, not by big developers who wanted money and didn't care about the land or the people they displaced. I have never bought the story that Rhys died in a skiing accident."

"You didn't," Kristy's eyes opened wide. "Why not?"

"For one simple reason," Hattie explained calmly. "Rhys Halifax could not ski." She took a deep breath, "But I was guy shy, and didn't wish to pursue an investigation. Too fearful of me having fingers pointed my way again… which they were anyway." Hattie sighed deeply. "I was not even twenty five when Rhys left me a widow for the second time. And I swore I would never look at another man!"

"But you did," Sarah said gently.

"Yes, I did," Hattie laughed, "Morgan Mayfair, nearly twenty years older than I, and a friend of my eldest brother Jerome," The widow smiled wistfully again. "He had been invited to a family dinner to observe me as the family felt I was wallowing in my sorrow, and feared I was falling into an abyss of depression." Standing up Hattie remembered the first meeting with the man who would be her third husband. "Morgan was the most serious man on the planet, coming to my father's house to observe the daughter gone round the bend."

"I didn't know that," Kristy said sounding left out of some secret. "Papa never said anything about Uncle Morgan having treated you for depression."

"Morgan didn't treat me," Hattie corrected. "And your papa wasn't in on the… arrangement. That was between your grandfather and your Uncle Jerome." She laughed, "And it blew up in their faces when Morgan asked me to dinner in front of the entire family."

"Uncle Jerome thought you'd lost your mind?" Kristy asked with reservations and misgivings.

"Char, you were not even out of nappies then," Hattie reminded her gently. "I was widowed twice and I thought I had a perfect right to be sad."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Sarah agreed.

"One would think," quipped the widow. "However, the concerns of my father and brother did provide me with the introduction to Morgan. He courted me for an entire year before he suggested we marry. We spent the next two years in bliss…" she blushed. "He was a tonic, and I bless the day I married him." She laughed. "Papa thought I would sell this house, and Morgan and I would either buy another or live in town… but I would never part with Mansion Rouge. Morgan understood and moved in without a complaint…well perhaps one." She mused playfully, thinking of Morgan's reaction to the strange orbs that danced at night on her lawns. "His solution to the problem was to put up that ornate iron fence. It gave him peace of mind…" she shrugged.

"Morgan gave me reasons to live happily again, and not to confine myself to shadows, but to live joyfully in the sunlight. And that is why a year after his passing I married the notorious artist François Larroquette," she growled playfully. "What a stir that caused. Between his slightly naughty artwork, and his bohemian lifestyle… and people speculating he had married me for my fortune…" she laughed. "Ou la la! All three girls laughed with her. "He was handsome, witty and very lewd at times. But he was never really indecent or immoral, just ahead of his time. And he loved me…" she nodded to herself. "He loved me." She looked at the three girls and said quietly. "He told me about his weak heart before we married, told me the doctors up north had suggested a very quiet lifestyle if he wished to live. No excitement, no stress, and no sex… he told them to go to hell." She pointed to a Trompe-l'œil of sky above the painting of Jolie. "He was extremely talented, and totally alive for the remainders of his years. When he first asked me to pose for him we were not even married. I think he was slightly surprised that he had been so bold and even more surprised when I accepted. 'Angel in repose' his first painting of me was an artistic success, even if it cost him his families pew at Good Council."

"Angel in repose is you?" Lizzie gasped, "I've seen it, at the Met!"

"So because he painted you, you were both asked to leave the parish?" Sarah frowned. "That sounds condescending."

"Some here think they were showing high morals," Hattie shrugged.

"Four years, so short years, were all we had together. But François Larroquette put more passion into the living of those four years than most men do in a lifetime. In that time he did seventy-five works of art, only twelve of which were nude studies. Pity it is they he is remembered for."

"Marrying Uncle David so soon didn't sit well with the neighbors." Kristy said compassionately.

"David Devereux was not a man who took no for an answer," mused the widow on the subject of her fifth husband. "None of the Devereux men do."

"Papa said the parish; no, the entire county was scandalized." Kristy stated.

"I would not have been most people's choice for a wife for David Devereux," Hattie acknowledged. "But most people didn't know David, or his personal outlook, and attitudes. David was a renowned authority on the History of this area. He wrote books, and did lectures, and was very into local customs. He was respected by people who were afraid of him, and what he knew." She was troubled by something she remembered about him. "His death, and the strange circumstances, and his involvement with the mystical world or N`Orleans… fired more gossip."

"Don't tell me they blamed you for his death," Lizzie gasped.

"Not directly, they had learned it was best not to say things against me out loud…" Hattie sighed. "But he was gone, and I went on to marry Todd Noel a friend of François. There are some here about who would love to say I am the one who forced him to show François Larroquette's work, and that I caused his death by the stress I put him under." Hattie tapped her chin, "The Black Widow title came about then."

"And when he died," Sarah asked quietly.

The elegant woman pursed her lips. "I was forty two, and I could have resigned myself to a life alone." She crossed her arms akimbo, her hands gripping her arms. "Lance Mason would have none of that… He was a most persuasive silver tongued devil."

"Lance Mason," Sarah repeated the name, "Why do I know that name?"

"I believe he wrote a play your mother was in a few years back," hinted the widow. "He was already a very successful playwright and author when I met him… in fact it was Morgan Mayfair who introduced us. We ran in the same social circle, and I knew he was a bit of a playboy… he had a very ruthless reputation in his public life. Directors on Broadway hated working with him, as he always retained full control of his work."

"Lance Mason, of 'Dark August' was your husband?" Sarah gasped remembering witnessing a rehearsal that the author brought to a halt when he didn't like the way it was going. "I remember him!"

Hattie nodded, "That play was one of the highlights of your mother's stage career I was told," she spoke as if it were someone else's life she was discussing, remotely. "I was surprised when he asked to interview me about my life with Jolie… and very suspicious."

"Papa said your first meeting with him after Uncle Toddy died didn't go well."

"It didn't," divulged the widow with a scoff. "I tossed him out of the house on his sorry ass when he started to suggest that I had something to do with the deaths of my husbands." A faint trace of anger passed her lovely features followed by mirth. "Damn fool went out and bought out a florist to apologize," She shrugged, "He demanded that I hear him out, said he was not suggesting that I had anything really to do with their deaths, but that he could make up a story about an innocent looking woman who did. He wrote The Black Widow mystery 'Bayou Spider', based loosely on my life. His untimely death just before it was released only made the sales soar…"

"Mama," a very male voice alerted them that they were no longer alone, "I see you are regaling your guests with your notorious past." Leaning on the frame of the entry from the foyer was a man who could have been Jolie Bodine's double. His eyes were dancing with merriment and his lips formed a roguishly handsome smirk.

Kristy's head turned almost violently toward him, "Beau," she shouted as she dashed from her seat to embrace the man.

"Char," he hugged her enthusiastically, before extricating himself to approach the widow with respect. "Maman," he breathed the word in a manner of devotion that was heartwarming.

Hattie embraced him tenderly, "Beau," her voice was softer, more tender and demonstrative. "I thought business was keeping you away." She'd forgotten Sarah and Lizzie were present for the moment.

"Business quite suddenly cleared itself up," he teased. "Besides, I could not have your Easter present delivered by some service." He stepped back, went out to the foyer and retrieved a box he'd deposited on the foyer table. "_**Ceci est pour vous**_," he said as he extended his hands to his mother. "_**Joyeuses Pâques**_." He winked over at Kristy who was now excitedly awaiting the opening of the gift.

Removing the lid from the box, she exclaimed her pleasure. "Beau, a Fabergé Easter Egg~ how like you to remember." Her fingers lifted the lovely enameled and jewel encrusted egg out of the box. It enameled in translucent strawberry red over a _**guilloché**_ground and divided into four vertical panels by diamond-set borders, just as the original had been. Each panel of the hinged top applied with green gold laurel wreaths tied with red gold and diamond-set ribbons. Each panel of the lower portion of the egg applied with diamond-set arrows entwined by green gold laurel garlands tied with red gold ribbons and pinned by diamonds, the top of the egg mounted with a table diamond. It had four delicate gold clawed feet to stand upon. "A Rogue Egg," Hattie declared in a delighted tone. "Beau you shouldn't have!"

"Open it Maman," he commanded. "It's not exactly like the one the Czar gave his wife, but I think you'll like this better."

Within the enameled egg sat a pair of enameled Magnolia blossoms, one bud and one opening. Hattie giggled like a school girl. "I do like it better," she admitted before hugging her son once more. Then remembering the guests she pulled back. "Beau you have caused me to forget my guests."

Sarah and Lizzie were both smiling, as was Kristy.

"Sarah, Lizzie, this is my son, Beau Jolie Bodine." Beau bowed with courteous manners toward the two girls his cousin had brought to his mother's house. "Had I know that Maman was entertaining such lovely ladies, I'd have rushed back sooner," he flirted before turning back to his mother. "I was under the impression that only Tina-belle was spending the Easter break with you."

His mother smiled wickedly, "Oh did I leave out that I was going to entertain two other girls, my bad…." She teased. "Come, dinner must be ready. And I have to tell Roberts to set another place."

Beau held his mother's arm, "Already taken care of," he stated gently. "I called Roberts from the plane earlier this morning." He smiled broadly. "However, I'm starving, what's a man got to do in this house to get fed?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

Fabergé Easter Egg in hand, Hattie led them to the family dining room where she placed the newest egg into the handsome French provincial cabinet that contained the rest of Hattie's remarkable collection. "Jolie started this collection for me," she said placing the egg with tender care. "This Lilly of the Valley replica was the first; he gave it to me on our one month wedding anniversary." She fussed with the little rose colored egg. Gently tugging on the little crown, the portraits of Jolie and a much younger Hattie rose up and under them the Mansion Rouge. Nearly all the eggs in the collection were in a shade of pink or red.

"Papa started it, and each of Maman's husbands carried it on, as do I," Beau said proudly. He placed his hand supportively to his mother's shoulder. "It's a lovely tradition." He escorted his mother to her seat at the head of the table and then took the one at the opposite end. With only one leaf in the table, the setting was very cozy. Kristy sat at her Aunt's left, Sarah at the right and Lizzie beside Kristy sat closest to Beau. "All of the eggs come from the Fabergé artists, most from Paris; one or two are from a former Fabergé artist who is training new artists in the Fabergé traditions." He placed his napkin over his lap, and sat regally at the lower end of the table. He causally turned to look at Lizzie, he graced her with an easy smile, and Lizzie blushed pink as she returned the smile.

"I'm very happy you were able to make it home for Easter," Hattie said taking little notice of Lizzie's state of discomfort, she was used to how Beau's handsome features affected young women. "How long may we look forward to your company?"

"At least a week," Beau said as the servants began to bring in dinner. "With business having wrapped up in Paris much quicker than I'd expected, I'm free until I have to be in Canada to inspect that new factory."

"Beau handles a good deal of my business for me," Hattie boasted. "I'd be lost without him."

"Ha," Beau scoffed. "Don't you believe a word of it," he waged a finger at his mother. "That there woman is a corporate shark; she just keeps me on retainer so the victims don't get too wise." He lifted his wine glass and toasted his mother. "To Maman, the notorious Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason." Hattie laughed loudly, and accepted the toast graciously.

Dinner was not as heavy as most Easter dinners would be, Hattie preferred a lighter fare. There was the usual ham and trimmings, but the serving portions were lighter, and while you felt contented you didn't feel weighed down. Conversation during dinner was lively and pleasant. Beau told of his latest adventure in Paris, much to his mother's chagrin. He seemed relaxed and fully at peace. "While I'm here, why don't I show the girls some of our local color?"

Hattie gave him a smile, but her eyes shot a warning to the young man. "That would be lovely of you, Beau," she said quietly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well I think I know the French Quarter night spots better than you, Maman," He winked at his mother. "There's the French Market, they have concerts during the day on Wednesdays." He looked thoughtful, "They really must do usual tourist stuff of course, the voodoo museum, and the Zydeco and Cajun Music Heritage foundation. Just the things young people like to do, and brag about when they return to school."

Hattie seemed amused, "Well I think that would be lovely."

--

The dining room at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation, like so much of the rest of the house was done in Eastlake Victorian. Clean lines, polished black walnut wood grain and inlays. Elegance in a simple style, the side board and china cabinet were in the same elegant style. Jareth's table was set with crystal and china befitting his station as a King. The crystal had the same gold rimmed pattern that was on the china. Even the Candles in matching china candle sticks, and the small vase holding forsythia and magnolia blossoms had a quiet elegance.

"Artemis," Jareth said as they took their seats, "How are you enjoying your visit to the mortal realm so far?"

The Goblin Scholar snickered, "It's more than I expected it to be," he mused. "The human world has changed a great deal since last I ventured on to this side of the Fairy Mists."

Spreading the Irish linen napkin over his lap, Jareth regarded his Scholar with mirth, "Ah yes, that's right, you've been here before." Amusement filled the stormy eyes of the Goblin King. "And what changes have you noticed?"

"Electricity for one," Artemis pointed to the sparkling crystal and gold chandelier above them. "Remarkable," he exclaimed as he stared at the lights he placed his wrists upon the table resting ever so lightly.

Hiding his surprise, Jareth cleared his throat. "I was referring to the human element, old man. What changes have you found in the mortals who live their lives out on this side?"

The Scholar became thoughtful and pensive, "It would be too soon for me to comment on that Sire," he deliberated. "After all, I've only been here a few short hours, and with the exception of our guests this afternoon, the only mortals I've interacted with are your staff… and they live an exceptional life outside the mortal realm while within it." He too placed a napkin over his lap.

The Goblin King pondered that answer, "Yes, I suppose they do."

Completely at ease with his monarch, Artemis grinned congenially. "I should however enjoy getting to know that widow who visited us earlier." He pulled at the waxed end of his curled mustache. "Remarkable creature," he glowered.

"Hattie is that and more," Jareth agreed. "Of my long term human contacts she's one of the few I'd consider a friend." The servant carrying the meat tray presented it first to the master of the house. Jareth took his portion and waved the server on.

"You said you were acquainted with the lady," Artemis encouraged as he helped himself to a portion of spring lamb in a savory mint sauce.

"Actually it was really her first husband with whom I was formally acquainted," Jareth corrected as he ladled a rice accompaniment onto his plate. "Jolie was inadvertently wished away," he said with a touch of humor.

Artemis was perhaps the most well informed Goblin in the realm, and he had never heard of an inadvertently wished away victim. "How can that be?" He asked as the braised carrots and sting beans were held out to him. "I've never heard of such a thing," he protested.

"That is because Jolie was never transported through the Fairy Mists," Jareth explained. "The young lady, who made the wish, really had no authority over him… He was twenty years old…"

"Twenty," scoffed Artemis.

"Jolie Bodine was something of an enigma when I encountered him," Jareth sipped the fine _**Cabernet Sauvignon**_ from his goblet. "He didn't even seem very surprised when I appeared."

"You appeared, not the goblins?" inquired the now very curious Scholar.

"It was the way the young lady worded the wish that brought me forth, instead of the usual array of goblins." Jareth revealed, "Her exact words were, '_**I wish the Goblin King would take you away, right now!'**_ and it was uttered with such fervent pain." He recalled the incident. "Poor child was so distraught; I put a spell of forgetfulness upon her after I lulled her into a gentle sleep. Jolie stood there, awaiting his fate, almost relieved." Jareth shook his head, "He was strangely resigned to being taken from the world."

"Indeed," Artemis listened, wanting to understand.

"At first I had intended to be very stern with him, but something about him, his face and the sadness I read there, caused me to pause." Jareth sighed. "I asked him if he knew who I was, and he nodded, it was when he opened his mouth to speak that I realized he was from New Orleans."

"Where did the incident take place," the Scholar was now enthralled and captivated by the King's tale.

"The young man was away at university, he was being schooled away from New Orleans." Jareth stated with a touch of sarcasm. "As if they could take the heart of the south out of him by forcing him up north…" Jareth paused and cleared his thoughts. "Jolie's family was very aware of _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation, and of the one who owns it. He told me so, and that he accepted his fate, he almost seemed a bit remorseful toward the young lady he'd antagonized." The incident was now playing over in Jareth's memory like a freeze frame movie. "He said he had never intended to be so heartless or cruel, and that he'd thought the girl understood their relationship was only a dalliance. When I asked him why he had treated the sleeping maiden with such disregard, he seemed at a loss. He told me that nothing seemed to mean very much to him, and that he felt lost."

"You said the girl had no real authority," Artemis pondered. "How was it you heard her?"

"In her mind, her heart and her soul, poor Lisa thought that Jolie belonged to her… that they were on the road to a long term relationship and marriage." Jareth explained. "Seeing him with another drove her to stalk him, and demand that he return her affections. He laughed at her, and she lost it, poor child."

"You removed him from her memory," asked the confused Scholar.

"Not precisely," Jareth stated, "As I could not bring him through the mists as a wished away, I merely altered her memory of him. I removed the thoughts of him being her beloved, and left it as she was acquainted with me, but not in love."

"I see," the learned man reached for his wine. "And did she recover?"

"Yes," Jareth assured him, "With no memory of me having appeared."

"That does not answer what you did about the young man," Artemis stated.

"It was a rather dicey situation, I had claim on him, but it was a thready claim at best." Jareth mused. "I had never encountered a wisher and wishee that were past the teen years."

"How did you handle it," demanded Artemis, now totally caught up and occupied by the complicated tale.

"I offered Jolie an ambassadorship," Jareth confessed. "I made him my envoy, as it were."

"A human envoy," gasped the Scholar.

"Indeed," Jareth smirked. "I have human servants here, why not a human envoy?"

"And he accepted," Artemis could not believe it.

"My dear Scholar, it was as if I had given him some meaning to his life." Jareth recalled the young man vividly. "He was handsome, rich and spoiled," he stated harshly, before his voice soften. "After our encounter, he became thoughtful, and generous. He stopped looking for his own brief pleasures, and looked to the needs of others. It was a astonishing miraculous transformation, and he stayed forever changed."

"You kept in contact I take it," Artemis mused.

"Very much so," Jareth smiled, "I actually helped him spirit away a certain young lady that he eloped with~ and was given the honor of being made the Godfather to their first and only born child." Sadness crept into the King's face. "Jolie asked that I not only be the child's patron, but he asked that I keep his beloved wife safe as well." He remembered the court and the face of the young widow. "I kept my word, and Hattie has kept my secret."

"He told her who you were," gasped the Scholar.

"He had no need to, she already knew." Jareth leaned back in to the armed chair he was seated upon. "This is New Orleans, Artemis; things are different here." He pointed out the window to mists coming off the bayou. "Magic is still alive here, and recognized." Slowly he lifted his wine glass. "To magic," he toasted.

"Magie," Artemis corrected his King gently.

"Ah yes," the King acknowledged. "Magie."

--

Hattie and her guests sat in the parlor, laughing as Beau told them more of his Paris adventures. "And the taxies!" he laughed. "I had one driver who must have thought I was a tourist, he took me the long way around the Eiffel tower!"

Hattie watched the girls responding to the lively and animated young man. She observed all the interactions while responding appropriately to questions. As the evening passed she made quiet assessments. Seeing Sarah's eyes droop once or twice she stood up. "I think," she said gently, "As you are planning an outing tomorrow, that perhaps you should retire for the evening."

Each of the girls wished Hattie a good night and arm in arm marched off to the stairs. Beau watched them leave with a pleasant expression on his face. "Lovely," he mused.

"Indeed," Hattie answered, but with a bit of reserve.

"You don't like them," Beau asked suddenly worried.

"I like them very much," she warned her son.

"Ah," Beau smiled again. "Don't worry so, Maman; I have no intentions of breaking any hearts."

"Breaking _**one**_ would be very unhealthy," She warned coolly before changing the subject. "Tonton is in residence."

"He is," Beau seemed surprised. "Really?"

His mother continued, "He will be most put out if you don't pay a call upon him."

A slow easy smile passed the lips of the handsome young man. "Now Maman, I know very well what my duty to Tonton is." He kissed his mother's brow. "I shall pay a call on him come sunrise, I promise."

"Bijou," his mother's voice became wary, and circumspect. "Do not bait him," she cautioned. "Much as he cares for you…"

"I'm aware of his mark, Maman," Beau respectfully acknowledged, "Even if she who bears it is not." Raising his mother's hands to his lips, he kissed her fingers. "I respect his claim."

"See that you remember it," Hattie whispered, knowing her son's liking for dangerous situations. "I have no wish to upset your Tonton any more than I may have already."

"Maman," Beau snickered good heartedly, "Did you take on the big bad Goblin King on your own?" She gave no answer, which answered his query without words. "OH wonderful," he teased. "Now I have to unruffled the feathers of the Owl…." He looked at the staircase that the young women had only moments ago used. "I have a feeling that will not be an easy task…" He poured himself a night cap. "La Bella's," he toasted before downing the contents.

"Beau," his mother warned again. "She's marked." Her son just smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

With diner over and done with, Jareth and his Scholar went out to the garden for some fresh air. The night blooming plants, blossoms in phenomenal colors and sizes, and shapes filled the intimate space of the garden walk nearest the house. Dotted here and there were blooms opening to the moon light. It was as if they were each lit from within and gave off a subtle air of the mystical fabric that was so much a part of this plantation. Jareth took pride in showing off his garden to his companion. Artemis, being a man of letters, reacted with poetry upon entering the garden proper. The night blooming Jasmine's fragrance filled the air with a heady perfume. Tiny creatures of the night, Luna moths and Hummingbird Moths danced an erotic ballet over the blooms. Long tendrils of weeping willows seemed to reach out toward the king and his companion, in a welcoming caress. Dryads and Tree Nymphs wakened from the sleep of day, stretched and moved about in graceful motions.

All at once the placid quiet was shattered, the sounds of terrified and panicked goblins and a very livid irate human voice came from the bayou. Jareth didn't look amused as the six little goblins came scrabbling out of the brush. Squee was followed scampering out of the swampy lands between the waters by Ink, who was followed by Blot, Weeze, Torky and lastly by Jingle who was holding his head and screeching like a banshee. Squee who seemed to be the ring leader of the band jumped up on a stump thinking himself safe once more as he was on what he considered to be Goblin-held territory. He began to taunt the human who had followed them.

"Na Na, Na Na!" he wiggled his fingers out his ears at the unseen but well heard human. "Witch Queen o N` Orleans," he sang loudly off key. Opening his mouth to begin another stanza, he was felled by a large wooden wedge. He went down like a rock and the five others scattered hiding behind hedges and shrubs.

Jareth frowned at the mischief making Squee before turning to see the person who'd knocked him senseless come out of the bayou. "Mama Tessa," he greeted her formally. "I was not expecting to see you until morning."

"And you would not have seen me," the Jamaican woman shook another wedge at the felled goblin. "Had that one any respect!"

"I'm afraid to ask," Jareth admitted as the woman approached him. "What did the little bugger do this time?"

"Him come into circle, interrupting, singing that fool song!" She tossed the wooden wedge at the others peeping out of the bushes, once more her aim was true and Jiggle again received a good thumping as the wedge collided with his thick goblin skull. "And them what follow him, be no better."

"Tessa, accept my apology," Jareth said in a soothing tone, "I'm sure they didn't mean any disrespect."

"Good thing we were closing circle," she grumbled. Goblins waited, watching from a safe distance. "They be the reason so few have a welcome here for you."

"I know," Jareth sighed. "But they are part of my job description." He offered her his hand. "I'm glad to see you, Tessa. Truly I am."

"Don't be so sure," she warned. "There's bad juju coming." She looked back at the bayou, and the faint hint of light in the distance. "We saw it in the fires."

"Bad for whom?" Jareth inquired curtly, all graciousness put aside. If the Voodou priestess was worried he was sure he should be as well.

"Some for you, Goblin man," stated Tessa without fear of reprisal. She had known the Goblin King for some time, and she knew just how far she could push her status. She knew the information she had just now was vital to the Goblin King, "A dark force is walking," she warned. "Darker than anything you ever come up against yet on either side o the mists."

"Are you certain," he asked. "There's no doubt in your mind?"

The large round black eyes of the woman looked at him with a challenge. "You think I'm new at this?" Her voice thickened with the Jamaican accent to the point that few would understand her words.

"I meant no disrespect," he countered gently. "Please tell me what you saw."

"Dark force takes a human shape," she crossed her arms adamantly, "As if we didn't have enough troubles here. There is a hunger walking Goblin King, a powerful hunger that will demand it be fed. It is human flesh it hungers for, and human blood," she warned. "And it will be wearing a pretty face to hunt!"

"What will it hunt, do you know," he asked already aware of danger and a shift in the fabric that was so much a part of this land of swamps and bayous.

"Not what, _**who**_," pursing her lips. "It does not care about you and your kind… nevertheless it will try to put the blame on this place!" She looked at the night garden. "And there are those who would willingly listen to lies for a profit. There are those who want what they cannot have. What they have not worked for nor have rights to."

"I am aware," he nodded.

"That what brings you to N`Oleans attracts the evil thing too," she stated firmly. "Be wary Goblin Man… bad juju can affect you too!" She turned to head back into the swamp; over her shoulder she called back hostility. "Keep those grimy little sneaks in your back yard, not in mine!"

Jareth waited until she was well into the brush before he looked down at Squee, "Did you hear the lady?" he asked under his breath.

Squee opened one eye; the sneer that turned to a wide toothy smile would have curdled milk. "Witchy lady got no sense of humor," he mockingly mimicked her Jamaican accent as he sat up and gently fingered the lump that was now very pronounced on his skull. "But she's got one hell of an arm!"

"Squee, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of Tessa's way?" Jareth asked in exasperation. "You know better than to leave our part of the bayou!"

Darkened eyes and a scowl appeared on the goblins face, "We were in our part of the bayou! They weren't! They were in our way!"

"A likely tale," Jareth glowered back at the impertinent goblin, the others began to inch their way back to where Squee was sitting in the garden, Jareth turned to accuse them as well, "And the rest of you should know better than to follow this idiot!"

"But," Jingle bemoaned pitifully, "Squee has fun ideas…"

"Fun," challenged their King. "Fun?"

Blot cleared his throat, "Fun for us…." He said behind his hand.

"I heard that," Jareth snapped. "Now see here, you all know better than to interrupt a circle!"

"It was over," Ink wailed thinking they were going to be punished. "Honest it was!"

"Just," Jareth snapped. "And you six are damned lucky it was! And I don't care if they were on our part of the bayou or not, circle is circle, and that is sacrosanct," reaching down, Jareth pulled Squee up by his ear, "I've warned you about singing that song to Mama Tessa!" he shook the goblin for good measure. Artemis stood back, waiting quietly. Releasing the ear in his hand, the King growled, "Do you want me to put that swamp off limits to you?"

Six bodies flung themselves at the legs of their monarch. "No," they each wailed.

Jareth knew the ramose wouldn't last long, but he had hopes it would last long enough for Mama Tessa and her congregation to disperse. "This is the last time I'm going to say this, stay out of trouble!" he ordered before shaking the goblins off his limbs. He motioned the Scholar to join him once more. "Artemis have you ever in your life seen such a sad bunch of goblins?"

"Never," the Scholar said as was expected of him, he looked scornfully at the puddle of goblins at the king's feet.

"Alright you little thieving monsters," the King growled darkly. "Off with you!" He pointed to the fields. Once the six had dragged themselves off to exile, he looked over at the Scholar, "Too harsh?"

"Hardly," Artemis surmised. "By morning they'll be telling the tale and making themselves out to be heroes."

"I'm sure you're right." He winced when he heard the noises now coming out of the field. "I hope that wasn't anything important."

"A bit late to worry if it was," Artemis surmised with a faint smile.

--

The window next to Sarah's bed was open and the cooling breezes of fragrant night air wafted over her. Lizzie and Kristy were already asleep, and she knew she should be asleep as well. However something in the air, something familiar was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as well as prickling her skin. There was something in the air that reminded her of something she was working on forgetting. A night not so long ago to be ancient, but long enough ago to have started to fade from memory, or it should be! Yet each time she thought she'd pushed it to the back of her mind, each time she buried it, it came rushing forward.

Sarah looked at her sleeping companions, and wondered with guilt what they would think of her if they knew her deepest darkest secret. Would they still be so willing to include her in their quiet world of wonder? Would they ban her from even sharing a room? She didn't want to take a chance, and kept her secret buried deep where no one would find it. She had pointedly done everything she could to forget that night. She'd banished her dolls, toys and costumes to the attic of her parent's home. She'd stopped reading fairytales and books on magic. She'd changed her room, not a single thing was left in there that could remind her of that night. She'd even banished her thoughts of the friends who'd helped her that night. Hell, truth be told she'd banished them as well. It had been years since she'd called upon them.

The girl stared out the window, trying to sort her thoughts when a winged creature passed over the moon. A shudder shook Sarah to her core, could that have been an owl? She pulled back from the window as if to hide from the eyes of the bird of prey she feared. Her heart pounded and in her ears there was a strange roaring sound as she flattened to the wall. The cries of the creature passing by told her that it was not concerned with her. A moment later, sweat beaded up on her brow she chided herself for her cowardice, 'Even Hoggle is braver than that!' she scolded herself.

The stray thought called up the image she'd long ago exiled along with other childish thoughts and memories. She could still see his weathered face, remembering the first time she'd set eyes upon Hoggle. His back had been turned to her, and he was relieving himself into a stagnate pool. It had been an embarrassing first meeting for both, and neither of them mentioned it again during the time she kept company with the gnomish little man. He had been such a strange little man, she mused. His life in the Labyrinth and with the Goblin King had made him a miserly creature she assured herself. It was her influence that had brought out the good in him, she told herself confidently. She had helped him turn from a sniveling coward into a soul who braved even death to aid a friend in need. Even when he had denied being her friend, she was sure that he was exactly what he was objecting to being.

--

Seated in his hovel outside the gates of the Labyrinth, Hoggle tended to his dinner in peace and quiet. There had not been a runner in some time, and he was taking time these days to bring the outer gardens of the Labyrinth back to vitality. His efforts had paid off so far, gone were the dry tumbleweeds, replaced by shrubs that were full of blossoms and new green sprigs of life. Even the pesky little swarm of fairies outside the gate had seemed to have a change of attitude. The little parasites were spending more time about the blossoms instead of the gate and its keeper. Things around the kingdom had shifted after Sarah.

Stirring his stew the little keeper of the Gate thought once more on his dearest first friend. The girl had taught him a lesson that he'd not forgotten. Even though it had been a very long time since she'd called to him or any of her friends through the magic of the mirror in her room, Hoggle held her in high esteem. He who had betrayed her, who had worked against her, even when he'd lied to her about it, was now her most faithful friend. He had also learned to open himself up to others in the Kingdom. Since that fateful night he had forged a friendship with the onetime guard of the Bog Bridge. Now that the bridge was gone, and only the stones that Ludo had called up remained, Sir Didymus roamed the kingdom looking for good deeds to perform.

"Hold Ambrosius!" a voice outside ordered, and Hoggle knew his dinner guest had arrived. "I said hold!" complained the voice of the knight. "Are you hard of hearing?"

Opening the arched door of his home, Hoggle looked out to see the aging Goblin knight struggling with his steed, the obstinate willful dog he used instead of a horse. Moments later, the dog finally tied to a tree that now looked livelier than it had in years, Sir Didymus ambled toward him, shaking off the dust of the roads he'd traveled. "Evening Didymus," Hoggle called out in greeting.

"And a good evening to you friend Hoggle!" Didymus bowed, removing his cap and dramatically swung it under him. "How fare you?"

Shrugging Hoggle answered, "I can't complain," he held the door of his humble home open to his guest. "Hope you're hungry, we've stew tonight."

"Ah," the little knight gave his host a keen smile. "You know how fond I am of your stews." A gauntlet covered hand patted the back of the dwarf.

The dwarf moved into the mud and waddle structure, "I think you'll enjoy this one even more," he boasted proudly. "I traded the Poultry-dealer, for some young chicken parts and a bit of duck."

"Did you," the eyes of the goblin knight widened, "Well done," he praised taking his seat at Hoggle's humble but sturdy table. "I have brought you a gift," he said reaching into his vest. "Found this today and thought you might wish to have it," in the outstretched gauntlet was a small metal hair clip.

Hoggle's hand trembled as he reached out to accept the gift. "Sarah," he whispered. "Where did you find this?"

"Along the road where the junkyard and dump begin," Didymus said softly. "It's hers is it not?"

The dwarf sighed and nodded, "Aye it's hers," he assured the little knight. He moved to place it on his mantle along with other times the girl had left behind. "She must have lost it when she escaped the King's ballroom."

"I miss her too," Didymus assured his host from his seat. "It has been ages since she's call upon us… perhaps… perhaps… she's forgotten us," he lamented.

Something shifted in the fabric of magic and Hoggle looked up sharply. "I don't think so," he said moving to the door. "No, I don't think so at all…" turning to his guest Hoggle gave him a faint smile. "I think we may be hearing from her soon."

Didymus too was aware of a change. "Perhaps we should notify the King," he hissed as he sniffed the air, not liking what he sensed he showed his fangs.

"Hush," Hoggle warned. "Something is moving," he listened, trying to get a point of reference on the direction the strangeness was coming from and headed toward. "Didymus," he whispered, "I fear we must forego dinner," he motioned the knight to join him. Silently the two slipped out of the humble cottage and moved toward a secret passage into the Labyrinth.

"What about Ambrosius," Didymus asked worriedly.

Hoggle pointed to where the creature had been tied, not even his reigns were remaining. "I think he sensed it before us and took off."

"Thank the Gods he's a coward," Didymus whispered as they closed and locked the secret passage. He helped put up the bar that was not just sturdy, but magically charged.

"Come on, I know a short cut to the castle," urged the dwarf after they fortified the passage. Swiftly he moved, followed by the goblin knight.

--

The hair on Sarah's neck stood on end and she placed a hand to it. "Not now!" she ordered. "Not now!"

--

Jareth was discussing the field full of spring plantings with Artemis when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He placed a hand to it and spun to look the direction of the plantation house. "Trouble," he said as he moved swiftly toward his home. "Artemis hurry!"

Swiftness defying and belying his age, the Scholar rushed to follow his King, "Right behind you, Sire!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

Alarms were going off in Sarah's brain, loud and painful. Clasping hands over her ears did nothing to close out the sounds, as they were inside her head, not coming from without. Wincing in pain the girl collapsed to her bed and buried her face into the pillow to muffle her pained cries.

--

Jareth heard the alarms, as did every being within the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation, Anton was heading off the startled staff as the King came through the house heading toward the office where he kept a portal for emergency use. As he was about to enter he collided with two forms coming out. The force with which he was struck staggered the King back from the portal which unexpectedly closed. At his feet, crumpled and unconscious were two goblin citizens that he neither had called nor wished to see. He had not had time to think to transform the garments he was wearing, and so when the dwarf opened its eyes it was not the usual attire of the Goblin King that he observed. Watery blue eyes widened, "Your majesty?"

Exasperated and infuriated, Jareth reached down to take hold of the goblin. He halted when he noticed that Hoggle was bleeding. "Hogs head, you're hurt." He looked past the dwarf to the goblin knight lying very still. "Sir Didymus," he gasped and went to his knees, "Artemis, hurry."

Artemis was already standing in the door, he turned and called out. "Anton, we need hot water, and a first aid kit." After calling out he too knelt to see if there were something he could do.

Jareth looked at Hoggle, "What happened," he inquired without his usual bristle.

With the help of the scholar the dwarf pulled himself into a seated position on the floor of the room in the King's home away from home. "Didymus was joining me for dinner, and we felt… something shift." He covered his eyes with a wrinkled and weathered hand. "There was something moving… and we took cover in the Labyrinth… we were on our way to the castle." He paused, looked at the room, "The Labyrinth must have sent us here instead."

"Yes," Jareth agreed as in looked at the prone form of his old and once trusted knight. "He's hurt," turning to the Scholar he inquired. "Do you have any healers training?"

"Combat field training," the Scholar said as he drew closer. "And as luck would have it I'm familiar with Sir Didymus' physiology."

Jareth eased back to give Artemis room to inspect the wounded goblin. He looked over at Hoggle. "The Labyrinth just set off all her alarms," he motioned to the curious staff members peering in. "They all heard it as well." Jareth pondered then asked, "You say you two were to dine?"

Hoggle nodded slowly, his head was pounding. "Yes, we do that from time to time now… and Didymus had just given me something he had found…" Hoggle looked upset suddenly; he halted his explanation and looked at the Goblin King with shame and remorse.

Jareth read the expression and without asking knew that whatever the knight found had something to do with Sarah. "It's alright Hogs tooth," Jareth said knowing misspeaking the dwarf's name would keep him grounded. "It doesn't matter what he found… Tell me what happened."

"Didymus said he was out near the junkyard when he found," his voice dropped low to where he was almost inaudible. "Sarah's hair clip… I put it on my mantel and we were pondering aloud if she'd forgotten us…" Big eyes looked at the King.

"I see," Jareth said without emotion, "Go on."

"I told Didymus that I was sure we'd be hearing from her soon," he looked away.

Jareth placed a hand under the chin of the gardener. "What gave you that impression?"

"The shift…" Hoggle hunkered down, trying to ease his face out of the royal hand.

"The shift," repeated the King quizzically. One brow rose, "Explain that statement."

Swallowing the lump that had gathered in his throat, Hoggle winced. "It's just that when Sarah thinks of us… there's a shift in the fabric of magic…"

Hearing Didymus moan, Jareth looked away from the guilty dwarf, "Artemis, how is he?"

"He's got a hard head, thank the Goddess," Artemis was bandaging the wound on the little knights noggin'. "He's going to need bed rest for a day or two."

"Anton, open the garden room, it's the best place for these two," Jareth gave the order over his shoulder before turning back to Hoggle, "Go on."

"Something else moved," Hoggle warned, "Something dark and dangerous… evil." His eyes shifted, as if he half expected the thing had followed. "We went in the secret passage, locked the latch behind us when we came in… I showed Didymus the entrance to the passage and then there was this roar..." Hoggle slapped his hands over his ears recalling the painful sound.

Jareth had never thought the day would come when he'd need to sooth Hoggle. Hang him from a tree, dip him in the bog, drop him down into an oubliette without an escape hatch, or even feed him to a flock of Vermicious Knids… but never, never in his wildest dreams… and Jareth had some wild dreams, had he ever thought he'd be called on to sooth the little scab. "There, there," he said placing a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Calm down, you're safe… the Labyrinth sent you here to me before she shut down."

"Shut down," gasped the garden. "The Labyrinth can't just shut down!"

Jareth smiled, "Of course she can, until the danger has passed. She'll not allow anyone in or out." He stood up. "Well Hogsteeth seems you're my guest." He snickered. "Ever see an alligator?"

Hoggle pulled back, cowering into the desk. "No…"

Artemis had witnessed the King's tormenting of the little gardener before, however this time he was not sure if Jareth was teasing. "Sire, Sir Didymus needs to be taken to bed, and I think I should stay with him…"

Jareth clasped his hands behind his back, "Of course, do whatever you think is best." He narrowed his gaze on the dwarf. "So how many times has the girl been in touch with you set of traitors?" His voice was icy, and his eyes were like stormy seas.

"At first," Hoggle answered without thinking, "She called on us a lot… now almost never." He looked miserable. "We thought she'd forgotten us…"

The misery the dwarf was experiencing was something Jareth was acquainted with. He too had felt it, more at the beginning. Now it was a dull ache. "And tonight you were sure that she had not forgotten?"

Cowering, not wanting to answer, but compelled to, Hoggle nodded; "I can always tell when Sarah is thinking about us…"

"I envy you that," Jareth's voice was frosty as he turned to exit the office. "Come Hogs head, I'll show you where you'll be staying." A sound coming from out in the fields caused the King to halt. "Oh lord, what did those idiots get into now?"

Hoggle's eyes shifted and he looked toward the sounds, "That sounds like Jingle… she's the only goblin that can sound like she's in pain when she's laughing."

"It's Jingle alright," Jareth lamented. "Squee is up to no good…" He was about to go when the dwarf held up a hand.

"Let me," he suggested. "I may not know the lay of the land… but I's knows goblins!"

Chuckling softly Jareth agreed. "You won't have trouble finding them; they are having a time out in the field." He pointed and watched as the gardener went out to kick ass.

--

The sudden throbbing in Sarah's head vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. The girl wondered if thinking about… no, no she mustn't think about that, not any of it. Not even her friends… or their… Sarah heard the cry of the night bird winging about the neighborhood and flung herself back into her pillow. Holding the downy pillow to her hears she forced herself not to hear.

--

The sun was rising in the east, as the Goblin King walked out onto the veranda. The air was fragrant and sweet, and he was feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. Jareth had dressed casually for the morning meal. The light blue in the linen shirt gave more definition to his eyes giving them a less stormy appearance. His hair was held back with a leather strap, much in the style of a "Queue". Those who didn't know him would think he was merely a wealthy land owner of a good Southern family. He smiled faintly before he took a seat as Monique come out to the veranda with his morning coffee. "Good morning," he greeted her with genuine warmth.

"Good morning, sir," she returned the warm greeting in kind. "Would you care for breakfast?"

"Not just yet," he said sipping the brew. "I would prefer to await my guests."

"Yes sir," she bowed to him and went back into the house.

It was not long before his stillness and calm were assaulted by the sounds of arguing on the stair. The voices were raised and heated, and Jareth had to cover his mouth not to be heard laughing. Artemis and Hoggle were moving down the stairs, arguing loudly about Didymus.

"You didn't have to do that," argued the angry gnomish man.

"You're acting as if I poisoned him," countered the Scholar. "I only gave him enough to give him some rest."

"Rest," shot back the little man and pointed a wagging finger at the Scholar threateningly, "You call that rest, I call that completely knock out!"

"He has a head wound!"

"You're not a healer," Hoggle snarled.

"No I'm not," agreed the Scholar, "If I were…"

"Good morning," Jareth said effectively ending the dispute, "Kind of you both to join me."

Hoggle sniffed and threw himself down onto a stool that was near the table. "What's so good about it," he huffed.

"What is all this about," the King looked at Artemis and expected an answer.

"He's got his nose out of joint," Artemis pointed to Hoggle. "I gave Sir Didymus a tonic to help him to sleep and Hoggle is acting like I poisoned him."

"You didn't have to knock him out," the little man grumbled.

"He was trying to get out of bed…" argued the Scholar.

"He was flirting with the maid," Hoggle countered.

No longer could Jareth keep the laughter in, he collapsed into a fit of mirth. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pictured the aging goblin flirting away merrily. "Oh wonderful," he gaffed.

"I didn't poison him!" Artemis argued as his coffee was served. He sat opposite the King, scowling.

"Hoggle, surely you can forgive Artemis," Jareth counseled. "After all, his desire is to allow our good knight to heal." He turned to the Scholar, "And I'm sure you understand that Hoggle's only concern is his dear friend…"

Both the Scholar and the gardener stared at their King; however it was the Scholar who spoke for both of them. "Who are you, and what have you done with our King?"

Jareth sighed as he stirred his coffee, "Oh I'm still the Goblin King Artemis… it's just that for now, I'm on hiatus."

"Hi at us," Hoggle sounded the word out as a mug of strong tea was brought for him, as the staff knew that goblins like Hoggle rarely took coffee. "Your majesty," he said after quenching his morning thirst, "I've been wondering… if you're here, and the Labyrinth has locked herself down… what happens if there's a summons?"

"I answer it," Jareth said softly.

"But you can't take anyone to the Labyrinth…." Hoggle stated.

"No," Jareth agreed, "I can however take them into the field and the bayou…" He pointed to the lush growth near the water's edge. "This land, all of it belonging to me, is part of the Labyrinth. And if there is a summons, I will have the runner run here."

"And God help any runner who has to run the bayou," a saucy voice from the garden stated. Beau Jolie Bodine moved forward. "Good morning Tonton," he greeted Jareth with affection.

"Beau," the handsome king stepped toward his Godson. "Artemis, Hoggle this is my Godson, Beau Jolie Bodine…" The elegant cultured young Creole bowed graciously to his Godfather's other guests, totally unaffected at seeing the goblin dwarf. "How are you?" Jareth inquired in a good humor.

"Well enough Tonton," Beau said extending a hand to his Godfather. "And you?"

"Invigorated," Jareth said shaking the younger man's hand.

"The south is a tonic," Beau agreed, "Nothing better except perhaps a woman."

Jareth's smile faded, "Which woman," he asked with narrowing eyes.

"A good woman," Beau teased. "Why, Tonton, is there a woman you have in mind?"

Counting to ten, the Goblin King weighed his answer. "I'm sure you're already aware of the situation." The volume of his voice had dropped, as he didn't wish to include either Artemis or Hoggle in this conversation.

"Is there a situation," Beau asked coolly.

"Are you looking for trouble," Jareth hissed.

Before Beau could answer an army of goblins walked in straight formation between the two men paying no attention to them. The line of goblins was being led by Squee who was dressed in an outlandish manner with a coil of rope over his shoulder. His legs were covered in little trousers that were layered and multi colored with colorful fringe everywhere. Around his neck were the remnants of the last Mardi Gras bead necklaces, in green, purple, yellow and blue. From his mouth hung a long piece of straw, and both the King and his young visitor stared after him.

"What was that," Beau asked as he turned to watch the direction the goblins were going.

"Trouble," Jareth said.

"What kind of get up was that," Hoggle demanded as he stared at the goblin strutting in the garden and heading toward the bayou.

"Mardi Gras," Beau, Jareth and Artemis all answered in unison.

Jareth looked down, feeling something tugging at his leg. "What is it, Jingle girl?"

"Stop him," she begged. "He's gonna get himself kilt!"

"A kilt would be an improvement," Hoggle scoffed embarrassed by Goblin lack of fashion and sense of style. He shook his head as he watched the procession head toward the bayou.

"Not a kilt… kilt!" Jingle wailed pitifully. "He's gonna go wrestle a gator! He's gonna get his self kilt. He don't know what he's doing!"

"Fine," Hoggle snarled having had his fill of Squee the previous evening. "Maybe a gator will eat him, that'll teach him a lesson."

"Tonton, you can't let that happen… remember the last time a gator eat one of them?" Beau reasoned with the Goblin King who looked stunned. "It took a week for the gator to get over the belly ache and that goblin boasted for weeks about what goes on in a Cajun gator! Remember the State Department of Wildlife came to investigate?"

"I know Beau, I know," Jareth said moving after the band of goblins. "Hold it right there!" He bellowed.

Lazily Squee turned and saucily looked at his King, "You be talking to me," he asked in a very bad mimic of the Creole accent. "What you be wanting now?" His antics were swiftly rewarded by snickers from other goblins.

Jareth hated to admit it but this was the most amusing thing Squee had done in a decade. "You talke that way to King, I make bad juju on you!" Jareth warned micicing the goblin's idea of Creole.

"Now Char," reasoned the goblin, but got no further as the king raised him by the scruff of his neck.

"I am not your Char," Jareth rasped. "And I've told you time and time again… leave the gator's alone!"

"But they're fun to ride…." Squee whined. "I want to ride a gator!" His little feet began to swing about wildly. "I want to ride me a gator!" he wailed.

Jareth dropped him, "I suppose if you have to, you have to." He watched the band walk off. "Hoggle…"

"Yeah, I know," the gardener followed the goblins. "Keep them out of trouble and out of the gator's belly."

"Thank you," Jareth said before he'd known he'd said it.

Hoggle turned, stared and then sniffled and said under his breath, "Your welcome."

Jareth turned to Beau, "Now as for you…"

Beau held up his hands, "I'm only in town for a week Tonton… and I've promised my mother to help her entertain her guests… and such lovely guests." His eyes sparkled with merry mischief.

"Beau, I may be your Godfather," Jareth gave ample warning. "But don't try me."

"Why Tonton," Beau feigned being insulted, "One would think I was up to something…"

Exasperated, Jareth sighed, "Would you like to stay to breakfast?"

Hearing strange sounds coming from the shoreline, Beau shook his head. "No thank you, Tonton… I've got to take the girls into the French Quarter today," he shuddered as he heard something go crunch. "Let me know how that little rascal fares." He shook his uncle's hand. "Nice to have met you sir," he nodded toward the Scholar before he turned to leave.

Artemis was now besides the King, "That does not sound good…"

"Hoggle will manage," Jareth said with confidence, "He's an old hand at wrangling goblins."

"So I understand," the Scholar agreed. "But has he ever dealt with a gator?"

Jareth snickered, "No, but he has dealt with fierys." He pointed to breakfast being served. "Come Artemis, let us have a nice quiet breakfast and then… I'd like to show you some of the sights of the city… say… The French Quarter…."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

Beau arrived back at his mother's home in time to join all four ladies at breakfast. His mother looked at him knowingly. "Take care of that little errand Char," she asked gently, before sipping her coffee.

"Yes, Maman," he said as he accepted his morning coffee from the maid, "All taken care of."

"Good," she said through pursed lips. "What are your plans for today?"

"I thought the girls might enjoy seeing the Quarter on a quiet day," Beau said as he cut into the grapefruit on his plate. "See the shops the way we who live here see them, not all bustling with tourist." His eyes moved from Lizzie to his cousin and Sarah. "I've called a few favors in and I've gotten us an invite to the Voodoo museum, Dr. John himself will give you fine ladies a guided tour into the history of magic in our fair city."

"Dr. John LaFayette agreed to this," Hattie questioned with petulance evident in her tone. "What did you blackmail him with this time, Bejou?"

"Maman," the young man gave her a mocking innocent gaze, "Whatever could you mean?" With little effort he had managed to sound shocked by her accusations.

The woman wagged a finger at her son, "I know you," she reminded him. "And I know Dr. John LaFayette."

"It's not what you think," Beau sighed at last, "I told the good Doctor that our Tina-Bell was visiting with friends, and he suggested they might enjoy a tour without tourists…" leaning back he addressed the young ladies. "You see like most cities that depend on tourist trade, we close up tight as a drum on Mondays." He continued to speak as the fruit course was removed, and the aroma of French toast replaced the citrus fragrance in the pretty dining room. "It gives the locals time to clean up from the weekend's festivities, and put things into order once more."

Sarah looked at Beau, "A voodoo museum," she asked skeptically.

"This is N`Orleans darlin'," he teased. "We are a very suppositious lot." His eyes filled with deviltry, "We believe in voodoo, ghosts and even _**goblins**_ here Char," he watched the reaction, and was not surprised nor displeased by Sarah's sudden edginess.

Hattie saw the reaction, shot her son a warning glace without words. "Dr. John is a wonderful speaker, and explains all the myths and misconceptions," she worked at changing the subject. "And the museum is a national treasure really."

Kristy chipped in, "Besides I need a new grisgirs."

Sarah looked over at her friend, "A what?"

Reaching into her pocket the girl pulled out a little bag and dangled it at Sarah. "A Gris Gris! Mojo bag… juju!" She teased.

Lizzie snorted, "Kristy do you mean to tell me you actually believe in that stuff?"

"More things in heaven and earth," the girl said tucking the bag back in her pocket. She smiled over at Sarah, "Now don't tell me you don't have some Celtic traditions that border on ridicules to the mundane. I've seen some of your stuff remember pal?" She winked at her roomie.

"That's different," Sarah argued from a point of embarrassment.

"Really," Beau now intrigued leaned forward, "Such as what Tina-Bell?"

"She keeps these crazy yarn knot things all over the room," Kristy stated.

Even Lizzie piped in, "That's true Sarah, you do," she wagged a finger at the girl with dark hair, "And you put little mirrors in the windows… And what about that straw Crosóg Bhríde?"

"That's not the same," Sarah groaned.

"Char," Beau purred at her, "Every people have their superstitions and their folk magic." His charming smile disarmed her. "It's nothing to be worried about, it's no worse than tossing salt over your shoulder when it spills."

Biting her lower lip, Sarah looked down at her meal, 'It is if you're working at keeping goblins out of your room,' she thought to herself. She forced herself to eat her breakfast, even though she'd lost her appetite. "Oh come on, no one really believes that stuff," she was working overtime at denying what she herself knew was a truth, magic existed. "It's just superstations."

"Superstations," Beau disagreed gently, "Are a way of coping with what the human mind cannot explain and the spirit will not deny."

Kristy was in full agreement with her cousin. "That's right Sarah; I mean my mother insists on putting a piece of the palms we get from church on Palm Sunday between the mattress and box spring of every bed in our house…."

"My father won't plan a business meeting on a Friday the thirteenth," Lizzie added. "And my mother has dream catchers all over the house."

Beau looked over at Lizzie captivate by her statement, "She puts them all over the house?"

Lizzie nodded with a slight blush on her cheeks. "She says that they keep bad dreams from coming into your day dreams."

"That's charming," Beau purred before turning his gaze back on Sarah. "Char," he said gently to her, and waited until she looked at him. "What the rest of the world denies, we celebrate." Her face seemed unconvinced and he added, "What _**I'm saying is this is the South, we're proud of our crazy people. We don't hide them up in the attic. We bring 'em right down to the living room and show 'em off. See, Sarah, no one in the South ever asks if you have crazy people in your family. They just ask what side they're on.**_" Hattie watched Sarah, gauging her reactions and her response to her son's overtures. Beau was aware of his mother's observations, and added. "_**This is N`Orleans Char**_." He winked at his mother.

"I think maybe," Sarah hesitated, but took a deep breath and steadied herself, "I'd like to see this museum of yours, and hear what this Dr. John has to say."

"An open mind is a wonderful thing," Beau praised her. "Dr. John is expecting us about eleven, and then will give us lunch."

"Gumbo," Kristy asked hopefully. "Dr. John LaFayette makes the best gumbo!" she told her friends excitedly.

"We're going to have lunch," Sarah was having second thoughts, and even third ones. "What's in his gumbo?"

Beau seeing a chance to tease the girl shrugged and said, "Oh the usual, crawdads, shrimp, gator, and whatever is wonderin' in through da swamp…"

--

Jareth's driver was standing at attention as the Goblin King and his Attaché exited the house. He bowed to his King and respectfully opened the door, "Thank you Thornwhistle," Jareth said as he settled into the leather of the back seat.

Thornwhistle, a tall rakish Hobgoblin who'd been in the personal service of the Labyrinth's king for centuries, waited until Artemis was also settled before he shut the door. Once he was behind the wheel he looked in the rear view mirror and asked, "Where to today, Sire?"

"We are going to the Quarter," Jareth said not bothering to look at the driver; he was already checking a black leather itinerary he had carried out to the vehicle. "My first stop will be the shop of Mama Tessa." Trusting his driver, the man of great importance in the back seat busied himself with preparations for his meeting. "Artemis, did you see to the offering I wanted sent to the Lady?"

"I did," the Scholar remarked, "It was sent after we broke our fast."

"Good," Jareth looked at his appointments. "When our business is done we will be making a sojourn over to St. Louis Cemetery number One." He tapped his fingers on the appointment book. "Thornwhistle, did Anton give you the package?"

"It's here in the front seat sir," the driver acknowledged.

"Good," Jareth closed the appointment book and smiled as he relaxed for the short drive into the crescent city.

--

Instead of using his mother's limo and driver, Beau ushered the girls out to his Lexis. "More fun than being so obvious," he winked at the trio of girls. "Kristy, why don't you sit shotgun up front with me, and Sarah and Lizzie can be our honored passengers." With his passengers settled in the handsome young Creole pulled his sleek car out of the family estate and out onto the street. "We'll be passing the usual tourist traps up," He explained. "It's better to see N`Orleans for the city she is. Basically like a lot of other old cities, she's a mixture of neighborhoods."

Once past the stately houses of the Garden District, they moved into an area that was less affluent, and yet just as stately. All the houses seemed to have hanging baskets of ferns and flowers in bloom. "It's fortunate that you girls are here now," Beau stated as he skillfully maneuvered the car. "A few weeks ago there was far less color here," he waved at the houses. "We are having a glorious spring." He used secondary streets so the girls saw the real New Orleans. He took his time, not wanting his guests to miss a single thing.

Once they arrived in the famous Quarter he drove to the Historic Voodoo Museum on Dumaine Street, and pulled his sedan to the rear where an older man was waiting for them. The man was dressed in a long almost caftan looking garment in dove gray. His face was tranquil, and wise, and if one didn't know that he was a voodoo priest one would mistake him for a kindly old grandfather. Seeing Kristy in the front passenger's seat of the vehicle, he smiled widely and waved at the girl.

Beau parked in a space behind the building and alighted from the car, "Papa John," he greeted him warmly. "Thank you for having us in."

Kristy alighted and ran to the open arms of the man in the caftan. "Papa!" she too greeted him with warmth.

"L'enfant terrible," the man addressed Beau with a scowl that never reached his beautiful eyes, "At least you bring the enfant back to see Papa," then he smiled at Beau, "I don't get to see enough of you two."

Kristy waved her friends out of the car, "Papa, I want you to meet my roommates from College," her voice was full of excitement. "That gorgeous blonde is Lizzie Braden, and that raven haired beauty is Sarah Williams. Girls this is Dr. John LaFayette, one of the best friends our family has ever had."

Lizzie moved forward first with her hand extended. "Good to meet you Sir," she greeted the smiling elder.

"And you Miss Braden," he accepted the hand keeping one arm about Kristy.

A bit more hesitantly Sarah came forward. "Dr. LaFayette," she didn't extend her hand, and kept a reserved polite distance.

"Miss Williams," his voice dropped an octave, and lowered in volume. His face, while still smiling a greeting seemed more serious. He took a sudden sharp breath and seemed to shudder slightly. "Well," he covered quickly. "Let us go in." He turned and ushered his guests into the rear of the lower floor of the Museum. "This is not the usual place I begin my tours, however you are not the usual tourists."

Beau allowed the girls to follow the Voodoo Priest into his inner sanctum and he brought up the rear, catching sight of a long sleek black limo cursing slowly through the street they had just come off of. "Interesting," he said to himself as he watched it pass by. "So the games begin, Tonton." He mused.

Inside the rear of the museum the elderly man began to explain the differences between real Voodoo and what Hollywood had been presenting as real to the public for years. "Those of us who practice, do try to keep a sense of humor about the misconceptions and the foolish movies," he informed his guests. "Mama Tessa is said to have the larges library of Voodoo films, and the woman speaks out loud and clear on the mistakes made."

"How is Mama Tessa," Beau asked casually.

"Still not over the last time you saw fit to filch from her garden," he warned Beau with a wagging finger.

"It was a prank," Beau said defensively.

"That prank cost her two years of hard work on a new rose," the old man scoffed. "And you know how serious that woman is about her roses!" He smiled at the girls, "We don't call this one L'enfant terrible for nothing."

Beau didn't hide his mirth at the title, "A designation I wear as my personal trophy!"

"A bit too proudly at times," John warned; "But then what can one expect when you consider your role models."

"Yes," Beau agreed casting a glace over his shoulder to the back of the shop and the door they had entered. "What can one expect?"

Seeming to understand the unsaid meaning, John cleared his throat and continued the tour.

--

Jareth alighted from the car and told Artemis to wait there for him. He took a potted rose from the front seat of the Limo before walking up to the front door of the modest gunshot house with a garden within a cyclone fence that was less decretive than some of the surrounding iron ones. He tapped on the front door with his cane, when the door was opened by a pretty young Jamaican woman he smiled. "Monsieur Pommeroi, to see Mama Tessa," he informed the colorfully dressed young woman.

"Monsieur Pommeroi," the girl gave him a polite bow, "Mama is waiting for you in the garden room. If you'll come with me," she opened the door to allow him access.

"Merci," he thanked her gently and followed her out to the rear room of the long narrow house.

Tessa was trimming potted plants in the sunny room at the rear of her home. "Thank you, Lora." She waved the younger woman off. "So Mohamed is coming to the mountain?" she questioned glibly.

"Peace offering," he extended the rare and prized rose to the Voodoo Queen.

"Maiden's dream," she gasped looking at the two toned peach and cream colored buds on the canes of the plant. "You are willing to part with this?"

"It seems the least I can do," Jareth sighed, "After all."

Mama Tessa accepted the pot with shaky hands. "For this I would let those greasy little monsters of yours parade up and down Basin Street in my musorr."

"I don't think they'd pull it off as well as you do," Jareth said looking at her colorful head scarf and the intricate way she wrapped it. "So I won't mention the offer, if you don't mind."

Motioning for the Goblin King to be seated, the Jamaican Voodoo Queen also took a seat, "May I offer you tea?"

"I cannot stay," Jareth said after he was seated, "I merely wished to give you my little peace offering and ask that you inform me if you become aware of anything else. You see, Tessa, I'm stuck on this side for a bit."

She nodded, "Labyrinth shut down," she said as if she had been part of the conversation when Hoggle arrived. "But before it did, you get visitors, yes?"

"Hardly visitors," Jareth scoffed gently, "My gardener and one of my guards." He leaned on his walking stick lightly. "The Labyrinth must have felt they were safer on this side."

"More likely they be needed here," countered the Jamaican woman.

"Indeed," questioned the King before giving her a skeptical smile.

"Indeed," she repeated firmly.

Jareth rose from his seat and drew a long breath, "We are good, yes?"

"Of course," affirmed the Queen as she too rose. When Jareth turned to leave she spoke hastily. "You mind a bit of advice from an old friend?"

Jareth turned, "Advice," he questioned.

"Relationships are like roses," she said wittily. "They take cultivation to come to bloom, it cannot be rushed."

Amused and touched by her concern, Jareth bent toward her, pressed his lips to her cheek and whispered, "Thank you Tessa, I'll keep that in mind." He winked as he withdrew, "I can see myself out, enjoy your roses." He waved a hand and three of the blossoms burst into flower.

Looking at the pot with its lovely fragrant and magical blooms Tessa groused; "Smart assed Goblin."

Jareth once more in the car turned to Artemis, "How would you like to take lunch in the Quarter?"

Slightly suspicious, Artemis asked, "Is there something or someone you wish to make aware of your presence?"

"Both," Jareth mused, "Both." He laughed gently to himself, "Artemis old man, what do you know about cultivating roses?"

--

On the second floor of the museum were the living quarters for Dr. John. He had a lovely it of roof top garden, and here he served his guests their lunch. He ladled the spicy soup into deep bowls while Beau sliced the fresh loaf of French bread that was sitting on the table. "There are those who refer to our section of the Quarter as the New Babylon," mused John as he served the meal. "I wish I could believe it was in reference to our wonderful hanging gardens, however I know better." He sighed as he took his own seat. "At least it's quieter now than the shenanigans that go on just before Lent begins. Mardi Gras is getting to be a bit much, and all these thrill seeking television cameras… talking young ladies into outrageous behavior."

"C'est la vie", Beau sighed as he began to work on the brick of cheese John had brought out to the table earlier.

"Easy for you to say, young man," the elder accused. "You happen to like seeing young ladies body parts hanging out."

Kristy hid her laugh behind her hand, as Lizzie looked away. Sarah turned and looked at the son of their hostess and raised a brow his way. "Guilty," Beau purred happily before adding for the Doctor's benefit, "And you would too if you were a decade younger Papa." He looked sheepishly at the two young ladies he was not related to, "Can anyone blame me with such lovely examples of woman hood about?"

Kristy gasped, and Lizzie crossed her arms over her bosom, "Not happenin' pal," she said, Sarah ignored the suggestion.

The meal progressed with the girls asking questions of the host and having them answered. When they finished he excused himself to answer a phone call. Sarah walked to the edge of the iron rail with its ornate decorations. She looked over the edge down onto the street below with the locals milling about and a few strolling about. Down the street was a small street café, and she could hear the sounds of people making orders. The smells of spices used in the shops and in the café filled the air, marrying with the scents of the flowers in hanging baskets. Sarah was about to turn away when a man strolling caught her eye, actually it was the color of the man's hair that captured her attention. Coifed in a soft wave, caught back by a leather strap, the hair was an unusual shade of blond. Her hand gripped the rail and her knuckles went white. She watched the tall, willowy individual leisurely walk on the promenade. Holding her breath, she silently willed him to look up, he didn't.

Dr. John came back onto the roof garden, his face was concerned. "I must apologies Beau," he moved to the young man. "I have to excuse myself, a client is in need." He said firmly.

Beau understood, "Of course, Papa," he motioned the girls to join him. "We will of course depart so you may treat your client. Thank you for having us."

"Yes," Kristy said taking a moment to hug the old man. "Thank you for today Papa."

"Let me see you down," John said gently. "I've something for each of you." As they returned to the area they had entered in by, John reached over a counter. He pulled linen bag out of a basket and handed it to Kristy, "This is what you requested," he kissed her forehead. To Lizzie he handed a little carved statue, a goddess figurine. "This is for you Miss Braden," he turned to Sarah, and motioned her to step away from the others. He slipped something on her wrist; she looked down to see strange beads. "Do not be afraid of knowing what others are afraid to believe," he said to her in a voice that was for her ears alone.

Sarah looked at the beads, "What are they?"

"Orisha," John said lightly. "This one is dedicated to Oya, very powerful in the spirit world."

Sarah looked at the beads now on her wrist. "It's kind of pretty…" she looked at the little white beads that separated the pink and wine colored ones. "Skulls?" she asked.

"Alligator teeth skull beads are a powerful protection," John nodded. "Not something you find in tourist shops." He assured the girl who made a face. "Keep this with you always, bebe."

"I will," she promised. "Thank you, Doctor…"

"You may call me Papa," he teased as he placed an arm over her shoulder. "Now off with you young people, have a good time."

Sarah settled into the back seat of the Lexis, looking at the crystal and stones in the bracelet with wonder. It was as if the bracelet had a spirit of its own, and the copper embellishments were warming against her skin. Beau pulled back into traffic and suggested a bit of shopping at one of the river front markets. Sarah only nodded deafly as the others agreed to the suggestion.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

The River Front market on North Peters Street was world famous and Beau was sure his cousin's visitors were going to be impressed by the mixture of old and new. Of food, wine, music and good company, he was also sure they would find a trinket or two to take home to loved ones. He parked in the big lot, and linking arms with Kristy led the way toward the historic market. "First the Flea Market, you will not believe what they sell!" he boasted.

Sarah was fascinated by the verity of shops and the vitality of the open atmosphere of the stalls in just the Flea Market. She lingered in a stall that was selling figurines carved in wood and local stone. Some of the images were oddly familiar. The one that had caught her attention was a little creature with bugged out eyes. Sarah lifted it off the shelf and giggled, "Well look at you," she said aloud to the image of one of the goblins of the Labyrinth in her hand. "Toby would just love you!" She motioned the woman behind the stall over. "How much for this little darlin'?"

--

Jolene Norichace was sorting through some dried herbs in the stall of the Herbalist at the Flea Market. Carefully she lined her basket with the leaves that were up to her exacting standards. "Have the essential oils come in," she asked the owner of the stall.

"No, miss," came the restrained reply.

"Pity," she said handing the basket to the owner to be tallied up.

Gyles Norichace had been standing by the entrance to the little niche of a stall. He left the task of picking herbs to his sister. He was bored, and distracted, his mind was not on herbs. Just as he thought he'd die of boredom he spotted the raven haired girl entering the Peters Street entrance of the French Market. He recognized the trio instantly, and their escort. He watched as the one who interested him was drawn to the carvings. Once more he began to ponder on her.

"What has your attention," Jolene asked when she exited the niche.

"Quail," Gyles purred, before he indicated where Sarah stood.

"Pretty little bird," purred his sister, "A fine sacrifice indeed."

"It's time I became acquainted with the little fool," the young man looked at his sister. "Go do your candle shopping… I'm going to put myself in her path…"

"Be careful, frère," Jolene cautioned as she passed by him on her way to the candle stall.

'What fun is careful,' he thought to himself as he moved stealthily toward the place where Sarah stood separated for the moment from her companions. He pretended to be looking at some carvings himself, but it was Sarah he was observing.

Lizzie was haggling with a seller of little mock voodoo dolls, both enjoying the exercise in quibbling and negotiating a price they could both agree on. Kristy was laughing under her hand as she watched. Even Beau was amused by the performance of the Northern blonde and the Cajun she was dueling with. She had the cagy old man worn down and got a price she was willing to pay. Both seemed satisfied, and Lizzie wore a victorious smile as she handed her money over to the man and accepted the bundled dolls.

Kristy giggled, "I've never seen anyone go head to head with Black-powder Pere like that!"

"I'd say old Pere enjoyed that," Beau commented as he watched the girl hug her prized bundle.

"That was more fun than an open market in Marrakesh," Lizzie boasted proudly. "At least this time I could understand what my opponent was saying… mostly."

"Marrakesh," Beau asked surprised by the girl once more.

"Daddy took us there the year I graduated high school," Lizzie explained easily. "He was importing rugs and silks for one of his holdings, and thought it would be an educational vacation."

"Was it," Beau asked the girl quietly as Kristy busied herself with s display of beads.

"Very," Lizzie answered, now more at ease and less self-conscious in the presence of the charismatic young Creole, "Just as this trip is." She looked past the man, saw Kristy and then became concerned. "Where's Sarah?"

Beau looked about and seeing the ravened haired girl at the carvings he called out to her. "Sarah," he called again. "Sarah, come on, there's more shops to see!" He waved at her when she looked his direction.

"I'll be there in a moment," she promised.

'Sarah,' Gyles thought to himself, still keeping a safe distance from the young lady. He watched cagily as Sarah paid for the ugly little statue that had her interest. Gyles knew there was no accounting for the taste of stupid tourists. His timing had to be exact; he inched his way over to where he placed himself in her direct path. When the girl turned she slammed right into him, dropping her bundle and staggering back. "Excuse-moi," he said in his most captivating manner. "I'm so very sorry…" he bent down to pick up the bundle. "I hope you didn't break the purchase…"

Sarah, slightly surprised, and more than a little shook up, found it was hard to speak. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there…"

Gyles extended the hand holding her bundle, "My mistake entirely," he assured her in a courtly manner. "Accept my apology."

Sarah looked at the wrapped bundle he was returning to her. "Oh," she gasped. "I hope it didn't break," She began to open the bundle and breathed a sigh of relieve, "Its fine." Meticulously she rewrapped the figurine. "I'd have been devastated if it had broken…"

"A memento of your visit," he asked making small talk, "I cannot help but notice your accent."

Sarah giggled, "You're the one with an accent," she teased. "No, he's a gift for my little brother." She tucked the bundle into her shoulder bag. "He likes unusual objects and strange little statues."

"Indeed," Gyles looked at the carvings still on the stalls shelves. "Well this is the place to find that," he extended a hand to her, "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Gyles Norichace."

"Sarah," she looked at the hand and found she really didn't want to accept it. "Sarah Williams," she said hesitantly.

"Sarah!" Beau called her once more.

Finding it a good excuse she backed away from the handsome stranger. "That's my host calling…. Gotta go." She dashed off having never taken the hand offered.

"Run quail, run…" Gyles mused before turning to head toward the candle stall.

"I'm sorry Beau," Sarah said breathlessly as she rushed to rejoin her companions.

"Bebe," he took her chin into his hand, "I'm responsible for you… can you image what Maman would say if I should up with only two girls?" he teased good-naturedly. "You wouldn't wish to subject me to that now would you?"

Sarah laughed effortlessly and smiled at the man, "No… I'm sorry." She explained. "I ran into someone at the carving stall, and I thought I had broken my purchase." She pulled the bundle out and unwrapped it. "Toby is going to love this," she gushed.

"Toby?" Beau asked lightly.

"Sarah's little brother," Lizzie supplied the answer. "You know, I think we should all bring something back for him." She looked at Beau who was still holding Sarah's chin. "He was very put out with us."

"Didn't understand why he couldn't join us," Kristy chipped in as she looked at the figurine that Sarah had handed to her. .

Beau released Sarah's chin, "How old is the lad?"

"He's five," Sarah said taking her wallet out to show off a picture she always carried with her. "And a little living doll."

Beau was startled by the image he was seeing. "He's enchanting," he said quietly. "You must be a very devoted sister."

Sarah tucked her wallet back into the shoulder bag, "Sometimes," she sighed remember a time she was less than devoted and what it had cost. "Not always." A slightly wishful expression crossed her lovely face. "He was very angry he couldn't come with us, and I just want to make it up to him."

The carving was now in Lizzie's hands, "You know, I'll bet there are a few more of these at that carving stall… and if we got Toby a whole set, he's bound to be more reasonable."

"Yes," Kristy said excitedly. "And we'll get him so beads and an alligator's tooth!"

"Carvings first," Beau said directing them back to the stall Sarah had been to. "You said you ran into someone?"

"Yes, a young man… Gyles…something or other…" Sarah was distracted thinking of getting more carvings for Toby. "Gyles is a French name, isn't it?"

"What did this man look like," Beau questioned in as casual a manner as he could. He didn't wish to upset the girls as they were very happy in their hunting of gifts for the little boy. "Do you see him?" Beau was feeling strangely alarmed.

Sarah looked about, "No, I don't see him," she shrugged. "He must have moved on." She was now looking at the figurines and putting aside the ones she felt might go with the one she'd already purchased. "He's just some guy, Beau… you know the type. Tall dark and handsome and very Creole…" she didn't seem impressed. "I think he purposely bumped into me."

Beau was amused suddenly that Sarah was so unaffected. "Not your type, Bebe?"

"Nope," Sarah said placing more items on the counter for the clerk. "Not at all…in fact, he kind of gave me the creeps."

"Indeed," Beau mused lightly as he too placed something on the counter for Toby. "You think your brother would like this?"

"Oh, Beau," Sarah sighed emoting sentimentally. "You don't have to… but yes, that's exactly the kind of thing he'd love." She looked at the caving of a gator that Beau had picked out.

"My contribution, Char," he said giving her a quick hug.

"Thank you Beau…" she turned her attentions to the items she was purchasing and didn't see the man turn to look about.

"Ladies, we've other stalls to visit," Beau said gently. "Make your purchases, and let's go."

"Beau can we go to the pralines shop, I know your mother would love some," Kristy asked quickly as she paid for the figurine she was getting for Toby. She smiled at her roommates, "You've never tasted anything as good as a Creole praline." She bragged happily.

Beau nodded, distractedly, still trying to figure out whom this Gyles was, and what his interest in Sarah could be. The little hair on the back of his neck was tingling and he sensed danger. "The praline shop it is," he said as he ushered the girls down to the other end of the French Market.

--

Jolene read the smile on her brother's face as he approached. "Success," she asked with pursed lips.

"Indeed," he chuckled. "I've made contact with the little quail."

"You must have one of your hounds flush her out for us," his sister suggested.

"My thoughts exactly," he purred.

--

Artemis was leafing through some stationary supplies, his face joyfully expressing his pleasure. "I say, there is nothing as awe-inspiring to a scribe as vellum and leather," he had picked out several leather bound journals and a stack of stationary.

Jareth watched patiently as his Scholar shopped for personal supplies. "I'm sure," he mused cheerfully. He was leaning on his walking stick, and seemed at ease and contented to just watch. "You missed a stack over there in the corner," he told the Scholar.

"Did I," Artemis looked where the King was pointing.

"And they have real quills here as well," Jareth boasted.

"Oh," Artemis placed a hand to his heart, "You know my weaknesses!" He rushed over to the corner.

Jareth didn't answer, he was distracted by a scent that was now in the air, 'Sarah,' he thought to himself. He looked out of the shop in time to see the girl moving past the shop with her friends and Beau. Jareth knew that Artemis was going to be occupied in the engaging task of finding supplies, and that he would not miss the King for a few brief moments. Casually he strolled out to the passage between the shops and stalls and called up a slight breeze.

--

Sarah halted and gasping drew in air, "Do you smell that," she asked without thinking, "That strange spicy smell?"

Beau knew without looking, and was amused. "Perhaps it's the candle shop, or the Herbalist," he suggested nonchalantly.

"What smell," Kristy asked and Lizzie also looked perplexed that she didn't smell anything unusual.

Self conscious and feeling like she was overly exposed, Sarah tried to make light of her outburst, "Beau must be right, it's only one of the shops."

Knowing unseen stormy eyes were watching, Beau placed a comforting arm about Sarah. "There are lots of strange and unusual scents here, Char…This is N`Orleans." He was not sure but he thought he heard a fist clenching and knuckles popping. Beau smiled coyly at Sarah, "Bebe, would that brother of yours like some Cajun fudge?"

--

Returning to the stationary store, Jareth tapped his walking stick impatiently. "Birddog," he uttered under his breath huffily.

"What was that," Artemis asked looking up from the pile he was now building to purchase.

"Nothing," huffed the King.

Shrugging, the Scholar asked distractedly. "How are we going to get this back home?"

Jareth motioned the clerk over, "When he's finished, put the purchase on my account and send it all over to the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation," he instructed.

The gentleman who was waiting on them bowed respectfully; "Of course, Monsieur Pommeroi, always a pleasure to do business with you."

Jareth looked over at the Scholar, "Are you finished?" His voice alerted Artemis of his changed mood.

"I suppose I am," Artemis said pulling himself free of his passion. "This will do nicely," he informed the man who was tallying up the account. "Thank you for your time."

"Always a pleasure," he assured the men before they walked out of the shop.

Artemis brushed off his light colored suit coat, "I apologies," he whispered to the King, "I lose track of time when I'm surrounded by writing implements."

Strolling leisurely Jareth gave the man a less irritated look, "I cannot blame you," he said more evenly. "I understand a man and his passions." He thought about the girl who had felt his presence only moments ago.

"You've something on your mind, sir?" Artemis questioned.

"Someone," corrected Jareth as they passed the stall where a dark haired girl was purchasing a confectionary box for a boy, miles away. "Someone," he mused.

--

Sarah shivered suddenly, and Kristy looked at her oddly, "Sarah are you cold?"

"No," she assured the concerned girl. "I think my blood sugar just dropped."

"With all this chocolate and fudge about I don't doubt it," Beau said taking a sample off a tray, "Here, try this," he extended his hand toward Sarah.

"Thanks," she said opening her mouth to accept the offered morsel. The fudge melted into a flood of sugary heavenly rush down her throat. "Oh Gods, that's sinful." She emoted.

"Me next," Kristy said turning to her cousin.

"Of course," he placed a cube in her mouth and then looked at Lizzie, "Now you," he purred as he slipped the last sample into Lizzie's mouth. "Oh I'm the most envied man in the Market today," he crowed, "Three beautiful girls, and chocolates," he teased.

Sarah laughed merrily, not knowing that someone exiting the market heard and cringed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

Jareth had been painfully quiet on the ride back to the plantation house, and Artemis was worried. The king had pointedly said someone was on his mind and the only being who drew that depth of reaction was the girl who had reached the center of the Labyrinth and the King's heart. Artemis was indeed worried. He'd seen his King in deep contemplation before, and it always brought trouble, he worried that this time it would bring trouble to the King. He wondered if there were any way he could ease the King's mind before things got out of hand.

Entering the great house, Jareth brushed past the Scholar on his way to the veranda on the rear of the house. "Are the goblins in the bayou," he asked Anton as he moved.

"Yes sir," Anton answered.

"Good," when Artemis made to follow him, "Stay here," Jareth ordered sharply. Feeling his pride wounded, Jareth wanted to be among lower goblins forms, those who had a lower scale of morality and would not question something sneaky or snarky. The last thing he wanted at this moment was someone who could be as sanctimonious as Artemis or Sir Didymus. Seeing Squee hanging from something in one of the trees, Jareth began to have second thoughts. "What are you doing," he demanded harshly upon is approach.

Goblin heads snapped as they turned guiltily looking at the man storming their direction. "Nothing," came the chorus of voices.

Squee, giggling and wiggling looked at the king with a wide toothy grin. "Just hangin' round," he quipped.

Jareth looked at the writhing and squirming thing that the little monster was dangling from, when it rattled at him he groaned. "Squee is that a diamond back rattler?" Looking up the goblin appeared to be trying to see if there were diamonds on the snake's back. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop terrorizing the snakes and gators?" Jareth noticed that Jingle was not part of the merry band of goblins torturing the poor snake. She was sitting alone a distance from them on a fallen tree closer to the water's edge. For some reason she'd been ostracized by Squee and the rest, and she was sulking in misery. The face of the little female goblin was in a pout, and Jareth instantly changed his plans. He turned his back on the goblin that he assumed sooner or later was going to be bitten by the irate snake. He walked over to where Jingle sat alone. "Jingle, would you like to do something for me?" He asked gently.

Jingle looked up, her pout faded, "You mean it," she asked in awe. Jareth had never asked for her to do something for him. Not alone, or in a group. "Sure, what does my King need?"

Holding out his hand to her, he invited the little female to walk with him. Jingle was a more refined goblin, Jareth surmised that she was either in evolution or she had some heritage that was of the Hobgoblin race. Whatever it was, Jingle could be more reasonable and more focused than some of his other subjects. She also seemed more aware of her limitations and of the bounds by which all creatures were bound. "I need someone I can trust to watch the girl," he confided as if Jingle had always been his favorite. "I know how diligent you are and how much you care for the girl…" as he spoke he watched the goblins' attitude change, she went from pouty and sulky to confident and poised, and her walk took on a slight swagger. "And I would only entrust this responsibility to one of my most trusted Goblins..."

"I'll watch her good for you, Sire," Jingle boasted now with her chest puffed up. "Nothing will get past me!"

"Here's what I want you to do," he knelt down, and drawing the creature closer, whispered in her ear.

Jingle giggled and wiggled, and nodded excitedly. "Now," she asked with gusto.

"Yes, Jingle~ do go now, please." Jareth released her and watched her scramble on swift little legs. The others were so busy with Squee they didn't even notice the departure of the one they called a party poop. Jareth stood up and passing the rest shook his head in disgust. "Don't come crying to me when you get bitten," he warned, then gave a thought of pity to the poor snake if it were foolish enough to bite one of the goblins. He turned around just as the snake made the mistake of sinking it's fangs into the grimy hand gripping his tail.

Squee screamed as if his hand had been cut off, which it hadn't. The snake having gotten a bit too much goblin blood in its mouth stiffened and the coil loosened before the snake went stiff as a rake, sending itself and Squee into a tailspin and crashing to earth. Jareth winced as the pair fell with a loud thud to lie motionless, side by side. He rushed forward, pushing the gathered goblins out of his way, "Squee!" he shouted.

Beady eyes opened with a popping sound, "Am I dead," he asked painfully.

"NO," Jareth said firmly.

Lifting the hand that had been bitten the goblin howled, "Owie!" He began to wail as if his hand had been severed, "It hurts!" He turned to see the snake and growled it, "Bad Snakie…bad," but stopped seeing the lifeless serpent, forgetting his own pain and wound, he rolled to his knees and howled. "Snakeie! Snakeie talk to me!" His hands gripped the ridged serpent and he shook it wildly. "Talk to me!" He looked over at the other goblins and cried out, "Medic," hoarsely.

A moment later the snake's beady eyes, eyes that nearly matched those of the goblin, wavered side to side, an there was a long hisssssss, before the snakes body coiled and uncoiled rapidly to expel the remaining goblin blood in its mouth and digestive system.

Squee hugged the poor beast and cried hysterically, "Snakeie, I thought you were a gonner…"

The sight of the goblin peppering kisses to the struggling snake was too much for the King and he retreated to the safety of the main house muttering that he should have left the little buggers back in the labyrinth. Artemis stood back, not impeding his retreat, but once the King had slammed the door of the study he peered out into the garden and shuddered at what he'd witnessed.

--

Gyles had called several contacts from his car phone. He had placed three of his most competent 'hounds', as his twin refereed to the men, on guard to keep him posted as to the girls movements. She wouldn't be able to so much as brush her hair without him knowing of it. He sipped his mint julep nonchalantly, wondering what would be on the evening's agenda where the chosen one was staying. He stood in the night air, enjoying his expensive and rare night blooming garden. The expensive and luxurious penthouse's terraced garden was on two levels, sweeping down from the level with where the bedrooms were located to the lower level where the parlor opened out into the outdoors though a wall of retracting glass. He looked out with contempt on the city full of dreaded tourists. When he came into his own, when his power was unquestioned, he'd rid the city and then the state of the mundane who were a burden on his plans.

Jolene stepped out of the interior of the home she shared with her brother, "I'm thinking of going out," she told him.

"It's Monday," he reminded her. "The clubs are closed."

"I cannot just sit about, waiting for one of the hounds to flush out your quail," she complained. "There's a little road house out on Highway ten," she crossed her arms. "I thought I'd go there to listen to some music. You're welcome to join me," she suggested more pleasantly.

"Jolene," his voice was husky. "A road house," his amusement at her desperation was evident. "Out among the mundane?"

"It's an interim gratification, Gyles," she stated. "Your quail is most likely tucked up safely for the night, as you said, its Monday and the clubs are closed."

The young man nodded, "Yes, perhaps a few hours at a road house will be entertaining." His hand reached out to her, once her hand was in his, he drew it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Best to unwind, for when the quail is flushed out…"

"Yes," Jolene throatily agreed.

--

Jingle followed the scent; there were only two scents like it on this side of the mists. One belonged to the boy and he was miles away, but not so far that Jingle could not trace his movements. The stronger scent belonged to the girl, the one who had eaten an enchanted peach, the one who had been bitten by a Fairy at the gate, the one who had brought the beast who spoke to rocks into the city… The girl who had reduced the King's prized puzzle room to rubble and who had broken his heart as well in her wave of destruction. Jingle closed her eyes, beautiful eyes for a goblin, and let the scent lead her.

The scent was strongest when she reached the strange little houses, little for someone who had lived with the King in the Goblin Castle. She wondered how anyone could choose such a dwelling over the majestic life offered within the Labyrinth. It was easy for the female goblin to wiggle worm her way through the iron bars of the fence. While it might act as an obstacle, it would never truly keep even the King out if he really wanted to get to what was inside the house. Jingle found it humorous that the Fae had actually fostered the mortal believe that iron kept Fae and Fairy folk at bay. She imagined keeping this believe strong was one reason he'd asked for Jingle to go spy on Sarah. He had said keep an eye, but Jingle was not nearly as foolish as she'd allowed others to think her. Not even the King was aware of how intelligent Jingle really was. However he had asked her nicely, sweetly even, and there was little she would refuse the Goblin King. Besides, she rather enjoyed the fact he'd asked her alone to spy on his little mortal pet.

The garden of the house was filled with magic, and the creatures of magic that roamed New Orleans stopped here often Jingle could tell. She smelled the passing scents of garden gnomes and flower fairies. She wondered what old Hoggle would do in a garden of this magnitude as she moved closer to the house. She could hear voices on the night air, coming from the dining room of the large house. The scent of the girl was stronger still, and Jingle tingled with excitement. Taking hold of a vine on the side of the house, she scrambled up to peep inside the window. Sarah was dressed in a soft green dress and was laughing as the man seated at one end of the table told a funny story. Jingle watched her, and the others. When the meal ended the occupants of the house went out to sit on the veranda, and Jingle scrambled up to the roof of the porch to continue listening and watching the girl in whom the King was so interested.

"Tomorrow we'll do a few night spots," the man suggested gently. "Perhaps Pete Fountain's club to start off with, good music, good food and the drinks are not watered down. Best of all, very little riff raft," his voice was melodious sounding.

"Pete Fountain," mused Sarah seated on the stair instead of a rattan chair. "My father loves his records," She leaned back on to the post that held up the roof. "I remember listening to them for hours when I was a baby." The girl's voice was wistful and preoccupied.

"Its good Dixieland jazz," agreed Lizzie dreamily.

"Its blues," corrected Beau but not too harshly.

"It's both," Hattie stated sipping an after dinner drink.

Kristy joined Sarah on the stoop and snuggled against her, "It's so nice being here with people I love," she sighed contentedly. "I could just curl up and die of pure pleasure."

Sarah snuggled against her roomie, "Me too," she mimicked the other girls accent which had deepened during their short stay so far. Both girls gave a light chuckle, and seemed to be enjoying a private joke.

Jingle was tempted to peek at them from the roof, but was too afraid of the girl seeing her. So instead she contented herself to sit above the mortals, listening to their banter. Being a very good judge of mortals she gauged that the two girls with the King's Sarah were good people. The older woman however, there was something about her that set Jingle a tingling again. The little goblin got that giddy feeling she always got around those who practiced magic. She listened more carefully and then knew, this woman was a power magic user. Looking back at the garden and the little fairy folk at play, Jingle could understand why. She pitied the fool who had erected the strange little iron fence as a means to keep magical creatures out or the magic using woman in. He had no idea of how useless the efforts had been. Gnomes, fairies, sprites and tree sprits were very comfortable in the lovely garden. However, Jingle had been around magical beings long enough to know that this woman could and would go either way with magic. Both good and evil seemed in perfect balance about the woman, and Jingle felt a bit awed.

"I'm all done in," Sarah admitted with a wide and long yawn.

"It's this southern air," Lizzie agreed as she stood up, "Just relaxes the heck outta ya." The New Yorker had also picked up a bit of Southern twang; reaching her hands down she pulled both Kristy and Sarah up. "Good night, Tatie`," Lizzie said before kissing her hostesses cheek, she looked shyly over at Beau, "Good night Beau…"

"Good night Miss Lizzie," he said softly in return watching the girl step toward the entry to the house.

"Tatie`Hattie," Kristy bent close to kiss her aunt, "Merci." Hattie whispered her good nights to her niece and the girl stepped away.

Sarah then bent and also kissed Hattie. "Good night Tatie`," she whispered before turning to follow her friends who had already entered the house, she paused and looked up at Beau who was wearing a silky smooth smile of his own. "Night, Beau."

"Bonne nuit Char," he droned in a deep and mysterious manner as he reached out to stroke Sarah's cheek.

When Sarah had left the porch, Hattie looked at her son with exasperation, "What do you think you are doing?"

"Wishing one of our guests a good night, perhaps I should have said beau – rêve," he teased as he stepped down toward the side walk, "And you can report that to Tonton," he said turning to look up at the goblin that was glaring at him. "You miserable little snitch."

"Peacock," accused Jingle abrasively before using the one trick she had perfected, she went invisible.

"The nerve of that creature," Beau huffed as he returned to the porch.

"She's right," Hattie said standing up. "You are behaving like a strutting peacock." It was more disturbing to Hattie than the fact that a goblin was lose in her house. Up until now Goblins had by and large left her home alone. Oh there were the few gremlins who wandered in and out of the city, mostly in the sewers. And of course there were the usual outbreaks of Bogarts and Brownies. But never had a goblin so much as come past the fence to the Rouge Mansion, now thanks to her son's idea of fun there was a goblin keeping an eye on one of her guests. "Sometimes I think I should have sent you to an all boys school," she scowled before bidding him good night. "Your Godfather is not a man to trifle with Bejou," she placed a hand to his face, "Beau – rêve, Bejou."

"Beau – rêve, Maman." He answered, when his mother had gone up the stairs he looked up to the heavens. Wondering to himself if he were biting off more than he could possible chew. Silently he prayed that the goblin had orders to keep an eye on Sarah, not to cause mischief. He knew his mother would be most displeased if any of her precious treasures were disturbed. He hoped to the heavens that Jareth remembered that as well. The last thing Beau or Jareth needed was Hattie making with the bad juju!

--

Artemis found Jareth after dinner staring off into the night. "A penny," he quipped, "For your thoughts."

"I was thinking about what is going on at home," Jareth said his hand under his own chin, and he turned, "How is Sir Didymus?" There was concern in both the King's voice and his manner.

"Stronger," the Scholar assured the King. "He'll make a full recovery." Artemis was glad that Didymus was of good strong goblin stock. "The passing through the veil would have been less strenuous had he been a bit younger," the Scholar admitted. "However he's got a very strong constitution."

Jareth snickered, "And a good hard skull to go with it," he quipped.

"Aye," Artemis chuckled before he sobered. "You're worried about what is going on at home?"

"I'm monitoring the situation," Jareth admitted quietly. "My crystals allow me to keep tabs on home from this side. The Labyrinth will not open her gates until the danger passes. That's how she has survived all these years. No one has ever succeeded in trying to mount an invasion because she will not allow herself to be invaded." He looked back at the mists that were gathering on the bayou.

"You don't call the goblins an invasion," questioned the Scholar.

Jareth shook his head, "She invited them in and accepted the refugees as her own children. NO, they didn't invade her."

"She still accepts refugees," Artemis pondered. "Sometimes with little thanks." He looked at Jareth thoughtfully. "It always amazes me that you seem to rule her so easily."

"Make no mistake, Artemis," Jareth said with more honesty than he would ever liked known. "I don't rule her, I rule her subjects. She allows me a bit of manipulation, here and there, but she would stop me flat if it went against what her own wishes are."

"Is that why she allowed you to toy with the girl Sarah?" Artemis asked.

"Sarah is chosen," Jareth acknowledged with pride. "She is my equal, my other half, and my heart." He took a step toward the mist, feeling the power of its magic. "Sarah Williams will be the Queen to my King, and the Labyrinth itself has chosen her. That is why I was able to give to Sarah certain powers, powers she has yet learned to command."

"Isn't that rather dangerous, allowing an untrained mortal to wonder free on this side of the mists," asked the Scholar with deepening concerns. "Training power of the magnitude that you use…"

"Sarah thrives on danger," Jareth chuckled, "Even when she's unaware of it."

"But sire," protested the scholar. "She's only an ordinary girl…"

Jareth turned his face schooled and formal. "Make no mistake about it, Artemis," he cautioned mysteriously, "Sarah Williams may be many things, however ordinary is not and never was one of them."

"Still," Artemis interrupted.

"Rest your mind," Jareth said as he walked away from the bayou and back to the house. "I've a trusted ally keeping tabs on my girl." The King smirked once he was well past the scholar and wondered just how well it was going for both his girl, and his goblin.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13.**

Jingle settled herself without any difficulty on the pediment frame of the window of the girl's room. It was a pleasant ledge arrangement, and the goblin was most comfortable. Here she could observe the girl without detection, and overhear all the conversations of the three young women. No one could get in or out of the room without Jingle being aware of them. The other advantage of this pediment was the view of the grounds below. She watched the magical parade of little creatures wandering in and out of the garden of the red house.

From her perch Jingle could see that Sarah sat on her daybed and stared out the window, unaware of the presence of the Goblin keeping a watchful eye on her. She was mulling over the day, every so often she'd look at the beads that she was still wearing. For some reason she was reluctant to remove the bracelet. Her roommates were already asleep, and although Sarah was tired, sleep was long in coming. She thought she heard strange sounds in the garden but put it down to someone having a noisy dog in the neighborhood. At long last she too settled into a soft sleep.

Jingle waited until the girl had settled and was making soft sleeping sounds before leaving the pediment and returning to the ground. Feeling that she needed to make rounds of the grounds and wanting to acquaint herself with the ethereal residents of the Rouge Mansion's gardens and grounds, Jingle slithered down the side of the building as silent as the mists that were in the bayous of the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation where her King was. Jingle was more adept at being quite and stealthy than some of the King's other goblin subjects. Although she could be very, very loud and disturbing when the need arose, for now she was content to keep still. Crouching down, keeping low she let her excellent goblin vision scan the lay of the land from this vantage point so close to where Sarah's room was. She felt a tug on her tunic sleeve and turned her face. Holding onto her sleeve was a creature that seemed too lovely to be real. It looked more human than ethereal for a moment. The little female creature was only six inches in height; she had a heart shaped face with large luminous green eyes and a sweet expression on her tranquil face. Her head was crowned with long tendrils of reddish gold hair that twined down almost to her knees. She was dressed in what appeared to be a white flowing shift of finest milk weed and moon-bean threads. On her legs were laced up thigh boots in birch bark that had been softened and pliable laced with silkworm threads. For a moment Jingle was not sure what the little creature was until she realized the wings of the tiny individual were folded down and looked like part of her dress. It was a very unusual looking garden sprite, in that her skin tone were more pinkish like humans and not the usual greenish tinge that one found among this sect.

"What are you looking for," asked the little being in a melodious dulcet voice. Her little green eyes were filled with excitement and wonder.

"I'm just looking," Jingle said thinking that answered everything.

"You don't belong here," the little female's voice trilled ever so softly, it was a statement, not an accusation. "You're a goblin, aren't you?"

Jingle smiled at the pretty little creature who didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that a goblin was on the property. "I'm here at the behest of my King," she informed the sprite.

"I see," the pretty little thing shuffled her feet and placed her hands behind her. "Why?" She asked not able to leave it alone.

"Because of the girl," Jingle answered motioning with a thumb to the room where Sarah was asleep.

"Which one?" the sprite looked up at the house, "The one who smells like tobacco, the one who belongs here, or the one who smells like magic?"

Jingle chuckled; the idea of Sarah smelling of magic tickled her, "The one who smells like magic." Jingle winked at the sprite, "The King's fond of her… marked her as his, he did…"

"She's being watched you know," the sprite said factually.

Turning her head quickly, Jingle assessed the little creature and found no guile in her. "Since when and by whom?"

"Since early this evening," the creature said truthfully, pirouetting she pointed to the fence. "By a man just past the fence there," she turned again, "And one over there," once more she twisted, "And one over there in that three." Her voice sounded slightly discussed. "They smell bad, and I don't think they can be very nice."

Jingle was become fonder by the moment of the little creature. "You've been keeping an eye on them?"

"I've nothing else to do," the pretty little creature sighed. "I'm not allowed to work in the garden." She shuffled her feet once more. "I'm sort of an outcast; just because I'm not as green as the rest of the family... they don't think I can do anything useful." She looked shyly up at Jingle. "I'm Polygala, who are you?"

"I'm Jingle," the goblin replied just as shyly. "I'm a bit of an outcast too. The other goblins don't include me in their idea of fun…" Understanding the feelings of the little sprite, Jingle thought over the situation. "Polygala, since you're not too busy, would you like to help me?"

Little green eyes opened in excitement and pleasure, "Gee do you really mean it, Jingle," she asked now gripping the goblin's sleeve with both tiny hands. "I'd love to… want do you want me to do?"

"Well, you live here, so you know what and who is supposed to be here," Jingle said now seated instead of crouched down. "I'm going to need you to act as my go between," Jingle was giving this very careful thought. "Those men watching the house and the King's girl could be trouble, and I promised the King I'd keep a watchful eye on Sarah." Jingle looked about the neatly kept and enchanting grounds. "I'd hate to make a mess of your hard work."

Polygala nodded, "That would not go over well," she agreed.

"Who's in charge of the ethereal creatures here?" Jingle asked politely.

"That would be old Grandfather Goats-Rue," She pointed to a group of garden gnomes working very hard, with plans in their hands and ordering other creatures about. "He's in charge." Holding out a hand to Jingle the little sprite said, "You'd better let me introduce you." When the Goblin stood up and placed her hand in that of the sprite the little creature led her to where the gnomes were directing the night's work. "Grandfather Goats-Rue," she said interrupting the group, "There's someone here to meet you…."

The old gnome turned a dour expression on his old features; he looked down at Polygala with disdain before he realized there was someone larger at her side. "Child, were you not told not to disturb us while we are at work," he questioned harshly. Catching sight of the goblin holding hands with the sprite he gasped loudly. "Good Lords of Atlantis, a goblin…" He staggered back a step.

"Yes, sir…" Jingle said calmly, having had to deal with Hoggle she was prepared for bluster. "I'm Jingle Norwood," she hesitated to extend her hand in greeting, knowing gnomes didn't care for Goblin touch. "I'm here at the behest of Jareth, Goblin King of the Labyrinth."

Wrinkling up his nose the old gnome demanded, "Is that one in residence again?"

"Yes sir," Jingle said knowing that her king was not well liked among other ethereal creatures.

Old Grandfather Goats-Rue huffed, "Then why aren't you at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation?"

"She's trying to tell you," uttered the little sprite under her breath; however the elderly gnome either didn't or chose not to hear.

Jingle could see she'd have to use stronger tactics than polite conversation. Drawing herself up, and narrowing her gaze as she'd seen the King do, she spoke with purpose. "One of the guests of this house bears the King's own mark… and she's being watched."

"By you," sneered the old gnome condescendingly.

"By men on the other side of your fence," Jingle informed the odious gnome. "Now if you want your garden torn up in our efforts to protect the lady belonging to the king, that's up to you…"

"What men," Grandfather Goats-Rue demanded, turning toward the fence.

"One in that tree," Polygala pointed to the one sitting in branches with binoculars. She then turned and pointed to another place across the street, "One over there too….and there's a third."

The old gnome frowned, "What do they want?"

"The Goblin King's girl," Polygala said impatiently.

Jingle liked the little spirited sprite, and she understood her feelings. "Polygala is right," she said backing up the sprite. "I was sent here to watch over and protect the King's girl… and I'd really hate to destroy your garden and all your hard work in the process…."

"That's a first," sneered the old gnome, "A goblin who does not want to destroy…"

Clenching her jaw tightly Jingle glowered, "Look you stubborn old fool," her eyes flashed fire. "I'm not going to stand her and trade barbs with you, I don't have the time, and you'd lose badly!" She got right into the face of the gnome, "I'm offering you a chance to save the garden from destruction, if I were you… I'd take it."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the old gnome backed down a notch, "What are you suggesting?"

Jingle regarded the mulish old gardener, "We should work together… keep those fool mortals out of this garden." She gave him a threateningly evil grin. "I'm sure you gnomes and the rest of your crew have ways that would make it difficult for those fools to enter here."

Sniffling and uneasy about making such an admission, the old gnome cocked his head to one side, "Perhaps," he sighed. Giving the suggestion a moment's thought he pulled out a little clay pipe and stuck between his teeth. "I suppose we could make it difficult for those fools." He then regarded the goblin girl. "For your king to send someone here, to a garden that has never had goblins… well, I suppose this is serious." He chewed on the end of his pipe. "I have your word you'll not do anything to destroy my work?"

"You have my oath," Jingle stated firmly as Polygala's eyes popped open.

The pipe fell out of the lips of the old gnome, "Your oath," he repeated in a low gasp, knowing that oaths were not something to be brandied about. "Done," he said awestruck. "I will instruct our throng to prevent unwanted and uninvited guests from entering here, or endangering the occupants of this house."

"Fair enough," Jingle held out her hand to seal the deal. "And I will keep all other Goblins away and out of your hair, old man."

A toothy grin spread over the face of the old gnome; "Done, Jingle Norwood." He laughed heartily. "Welcome to the garden." He gripped her hand and began to pump it. "Tell me did your king bring any goblin ale with him?" he asked quietly with a gleam in his eye. "I've not had a good bit of ale since I was a wee gnome…."

"I'll have a keg delivered to you, complements of the King," Jingle assured him. Then looking over at Polygala, Jingle added. "I'd like Polygala to assist me."

The old gnome, having little use for the pale sprite saw this as a means to get her off his hands and gladly surrendered her to the goblin. "She'll be happy to assist you."

In any other circumstance Polygala might have protested. However she saw this as her chance for some excitement, and a possibility of showing she was not worthless. "I'd be happy to be of service," she said.

Jingle looked at the old gnome with single-mindedness, "It may mean her leaving this garden."

"She's free to go with you," Goats-Rue waved a hand. "Think of her as yours."

Polygala smiled at Jingle and whispered, "Thank you."

--

The man in the tree looked into his binoculars, and yawned. He saw no reason to be spying on the girl that his employer demanded he watch. As far as he was concerned there was nothing special about the raven haired girl. He picked up his walkie talkie and spoke into it softly. "This is Charlie Dog, come in Moonbeam Leader." There was static and then nothing. "Come in Moonbeam Leader."

"Moonbeam Leader, come in Charlie Dog," a voice squawked.

"Lights out, and subject must be asleep…" yawned the man in the tree. "When are we going to be spelled?"

"Not until just before dawn," the voice squawked again, "Moonbeam Leader out."

Making himself comfortable in the tree, the man grumbled about what he would do if he were free to tell the employer what he thought of this mission. He was unaware of the eyes in and under the tree that were watching him.

--

Jingle walked the garden with her sprite companion. "Is he always so disagreeable?" Her voice was low, only for the ears of her companion.

"Oh you got him on a good day, that's his version of agreeable," Polygala answered rolling her eyes. "Old curmudgeon," she muttered. "He's the reason I'm not able to work in the garden." She glanced back at the gnome who had gone back to giving orders and ignoring the pair of misfits. "He thinks just because I'm not green I can't work magic…"

"Sounds like Squee…" complained the still bitter Jingle. "He thinks he's the smartest of the goblins… Ha!" She looked down at the sprite, "He thinks that because I'm a girl he can order me about! But he does such stupid things….sometimes…" Jingle took a long ragged breath, "I mean who really wants to ride an alligator?"

"Ride an alligator," repeated the sprite crinkling up her pretty nose. "Not in this lifetime." She looked at Jingle, "And he thinks that's fun?"

"What can I tell you, back home he thinks an exploding keg of ale is fun…" Jingle complained.

"And your king puts up with this?" Polygala moaned.

Jingle thought of all the things the King had put up with in the last century. "Not at first," she said quietly. "I think he planned on making a difference, but taking into consideration what he has to work with…." She lamented the lot the King had had thrust upon him. "You see, our king is a very proud being. He was young and full of promise when he had the throne thrust upon him… actually I think he himself was exiled to our kingdom… and those what sent him told him he was to be king…"

"He's not a goblin?" Polygala seemed surprised. "I thought all Goblin Kings were goblins."

"Not Jareth," Jingle sighed as she leaned on the wall they had moved back to. "He's been with us for so long, he's sort of melded into the goblin mind mode, but no, he's not goblin born. He was born a High Fae," she explained.

"Were you born a goblin," Polygala asked fascinated by the conversation. "You don't seem very goblin to me…"

Jingle scratched her head and gave it thought, "I was born goblin, but I'm not sure just what that really means… I mean I don't think all of the lower goblins are like Squee… some are like Blot…. He's the one who puts on airs and acts like we are a burden… some are like the Hobs… tall and smart and almost human… some are really ugly and mean… they stay hidden in mountains and caverns." She looked at the little sprite. "You haven't known many goblins, have you?"

"No," admitted the smaller female. "You're my first; it's just that you're not at all what I expected a goblin to be."

"What did you expect?" asked Jingle now intrigued by what other ethereal were hearing and thinking.

Embarrassed and self conscious the little sprite shuffled her booted feet and legs while she hedged the answer, "Well…" she beat around the bush, "I was told that goblins were… evil, crabby, and mischievous creatures… that they are trouble makers and have no homes and no…code."

"Is that really what's being said," questioned the astonished goblin. "They think we have no homes?"

"Well we've never seen your homes… I mean you don't actually live on this side of the mists." Polygala reasoned.

"I have a very nice home," Jingle pouted. "I live in a castle with a king…" she grumbled. "And I could have a house of my own if I wanted. We have a whole city!"

"A city," Polygala's eyes widened again, "A real goblin city?"

"Sure," Jingle said perplexed by the sprite's inquisitiveness.

The little creature looked over her shoulder at the work going on about them in the garden. "Do you think I could go there?"

"Why would you want to," Jingle asked suddenly taken about by the request. "I mean look at this place, it's gorgeous."

"It's boring," complained the sprite, "And I think I was born to better things than this!" she waved a hand at the groups of beings ignoring the pair. "I was born to adventure… and I'm not likely to find it here. But past the mists where your Labyrinth is~ I might have a chance…" her eyes were full of hope.

Jingle hunkered down, looked at the sprite and warned her of the dangers that she'd face. "Polygala, the Labyrinth is not always a nice place… and there's a few not so nice beings who live there… we've a garden Bogart. His name is Hoggle, and he does not like fairies… he sprays them with some evil concoction that knocks them right out of flight. And then there's the bog of stench…" Jingle wanted the sprite to know what she was asking. "And when there's a runner.."

"A runner," the sprite held up a hand to stop her friend.

"That's what we call someone who wishes away a child and then takes the king up on his offer to try and win the child back," Jingle explained feeling a bit uneasy.

"Then it's true," whispered the sprite, "You take away unwanted children…"

Jingle nodded, "It's true," she was unsure of what the consequences of the admission was about to bring, and braced herself for rejection.

"Then take me with you," pleaded the sprite with tears forming. "I'm an unwanted child, you've seen that yourself."

"You'd come to live within the Labyrinth freely, knowing there's not a community to sustain you?" Jingle was astonished by the little one's plea.

"What have I here," Polygala argued softly. "No duty, no fun…"

Jingle understood the sprite, "I'll speak to our king, ask him to offer you a position when we are finished here," promised the goblin. "And you can come and stay with me…"

Polygala melted into a pile beside the goblin female. "Oh I'd like that Jingle Norwood, I'd really like that!"

"Okay, okay," Jingle looked up at the house once more. "We've got to be back on the job… I've got to make sure the birddog peacock that lives here keeps his fingers to his-self!" She began to scramble up the building once more.

Polygala unfurled her wings, twitched them to get them in line, and then flittered up to the top of the house and was waiting on the pediment when Jingle arrived. "You really must ask your king for the gift of wings," she suggested. "Makes travel much easier."

"That's not a half bad suggestion," Jingle said settling back into place on the ledge. "So, do you play whist, or mumbly peg?"

Reaching into a hidden pocket the sprite pulled out leather bag that held a handful of ivory craved dice, "I play Dragon's Treasure." Her voice was confident and just a bit boastful.

Jingle reached into her pocket, pulled out a slightly larger version of the same leather bag, "So do I," Jingle shook the bag at the sprite, "Care to play a few rounds?"

Crossing her legs as she seated herself, the pretty sprite got comfortable, "What shall we wager?"

"I've got dew drops," boasted Jingle, "what have you got?"

Looking about, making sure they were not being observed or over heard, the sprite whispered, "I've got aurora crystals…"

"You're on," Jingle agreed to the stakes, and began to shake her bag. "Those are nice dice, where'd you get them?" she asked making conversation with her new companion.

"My GrandSire carved them," she looked over at Jingle's dice. "Where did you get yours, I've never seen that design before."

"Fire Opals, a common stone in the Labyrinth… I won these from the guards of the Ruse…" Jingle admitted. "They are not very good at playing games. I had a rather ordinary set of soapstone dice," she counted her points from the shake. "But Squee thought they were foolish so he flung them into the bog…"

"I don't think I like your friend Squee…" Polygala counted her points and marked the amount on the top of the pediment beside her.

"I wouldn't exactly call him my friend," Jingle contemplated the actual relationship, "More that I serve with him." She counted the points up again and marked it down. "He never liked Dragon's Treasure, as he could not cheat to win."

"Pity," Polygala said. "I love a good game of skill, it sharpens one's wit." She watched with open appreciation of Jingle's skill at casting the strange shaped dice.

After casting and counting the mounting score, Jingle turned to the little sprite with a coconspirator smile, "Squee with sharper wit would be more dangerous than he is without it. So perhaps it's just as well…"

"Perhaps," agreed the sprite. The companions played their game of chance while the ethereal beings on the ground and just above the flowering plants of the garden went about their nightly chores.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14.**

Sarah arose before her friends, looked out at the lovely day dawning and took the opportunity to have the first shower of the day. Knowing the other two would sleep on for at least an hour, she would not be rushed. When she exited the bath, fully dressed and ready to face the day she was not surprised to find her friends still asleep. "Wake up you two," she said in much too chipper a tone. "Time's awaistin'!" Lizzie opened one eye and grumbled something under her breath, questioning Sarah legitimacy. Kristy was not much better, she flung a pillow blinding at Sarah, which Sarah easily deflected. "Come on!"

Lizzie sat upright, and glared at her, "What's the hurry," she asked.

Sarah cleared her throat and reminded them that Beau had promised to take them out to Lake Pontchartrain for the day. Lizzie nodded, remembering and wondering why it was she was so groggy. "Fine, fine, I'm up…I'm up."

Kristy was now lying on her back and staring up at the canopy. "I'm awake," she grumbled.

"This southern air is really doing a job on you two," Sarah quipped as she ducked another round of pillows coming her way.

--

Hattie was going over her morning paper when the girls joined her, "Good morning my darlings," she greeted them.

"Good morning," Sarah was the only one to answer in good spirits, and wide awake.

Lizzie mumbled good morning as did Kristy, and Hattie chuckled. "Well you two need to have some coffee," she signaled the servant to bring in the brew. "Beau," she looked at her son as he too entered the morning room. "Did you sleep well, bejou?"

"Very," he admitted taking his place. "I look forward to today's outing."

"Ah yes, the lake," Hattie said happily. "I believe I'll join you if you don't mind."

"Always a pleasure, Maman," Beau toasted her with his morning juice. "I shall be the envy of the entire parish!" He teased the matron gently, as only a son could. "And will you be getting out some outrageously vixens' outfit for this evening as well?"

"No," his mother teased back, "I thought I'd go like Lady Godiva."

Kristy woke up and gasped, "Hattie!" Both mother and son snickered at the girl. "Oh you two," she grumbled but smiled. "Alright you got me!"

"Tina-Bell you should know by now that Maman is not about to do anything so mundane," Beau teased. "She's got a much more twisted sense of humor." He blew a kiss to his mother. He looked slyly at Sarah, "Ever been to a yacht club, bebe?"

"No," Sarah admitted without hesitation. "Is it something that I should worry about?"

"No, not at all," Hattie said before Beau could play games with the girl. "What you're wearing is fine, all the young people dress very casually these days." She tapped her nails on the table, "Besides, Beau is taking us out on the yacht…."

"A yacht," Lizzie turned to look at him.

"The only way to get to where we're going today is by water, and I felt the yacht was more comfortable than a bayou airboat, not to mention far more stylish!" Beau teased.

Sarah wondered if she should speak up and say an airboat would be fine with her. She was enjoying the banter at the table.

"An airboat indeed," Hattie grouched. "You should see what you look like after a ride with this one, no" she shook her head, "A yacht is much safer."

--

On the pediment over the breakfast room window, Jingle turned to her companion, "The yacht club, eh?" She nodded, "I need to report this to the King, you keep a watchful eye on them while they eat, and I'll be back before they leave."

"How," asked the sprite, "The plantation is more than twenty minutes away from here," she complained. "They'll be gone before you get to your King!"

"I'm taking a short cut," Jingle whispered with a wink and then shimmied down the building before anyone could even notice. She knew the sprite was watching, no sooner did she slip through the bars of the fence she entered a portal the king had put at her disposal.

--

Jareth was reading the Times-Picayune, and sipping his after breakfast coffee while Artemis treated himself to a third pastry. "I shall have to go on a diet when we return," he quipped. "But by jingo the food here is delightfully sinful!"

Keeping his eyes on the story and not his Scholar, Jareth nodded, "My cook here is exceptional."

Artemis noticed a visual disturbance near the bayou, "Sire, are you expecting someone?" Wiping the crumbs from his lips he stood up. "That looks like Jingle coming this way."

Jareth laid the paper aside and awaited his spy, "Good morning Jingle girl," he greeted her. "You have something to report?"

"They are going to the Yacht club," she stated as she curtseyed to the king. "And then the peacock said something about showing them around the lake."

"Very good," he praised his spy.

"Blah!" a jeer came from the goblins gathered at the edge of the veranda. Squee sauntered up, dressed again in the now tattered Mardi Gras costume. "Anyone could have found that out."

"Without destroying the grounds of the Mansion," Jingle shot back bitterly. She softened her expression when she looked back at the King. "I made a connection with one of the sprites in the Lady's garden. Her name is Polygala, and she…she's a bit of a misfit, but sympathetic to our cause."

"Is she," Jareth seemed a bit disapproving.

"In fact she's asked for…" Jingle sought to find a word to convey the little sprite's plea. "Sanctuary."

Both Jareth and his Scholar, stunned were staring at the little female goblin with honest eyes. The other goblins, not sure they understood the word began to make fun of Jingle. "Stankuary?" Squee laughed louder than the rest. "I've got a one way ticket to the bog for her!"

Jingle, downcast and embarrassed lowered her head. It was only the king's light touch that raised her face to his. "Sanctuary," he questioned softly, she nodded and looked very sad. Jareth whispered, "She's unwanted?"

"They look down upon her," Jingle fidgeted. "She's not like the rest of them… she's… pale, not green…"

Jareth drew the compassionate kindhearted Jingle closer, "Tell your friend she is welcome in our kingdom when this has ended."

The rest of the goblins, upon hearing the King's declaration stopped laughing and cutting up. Squee narrowed bitter and jealous eyes toward the goblin who he took pleasure in taunting. "Why should her friend get to come?" For a moment he forgot he was speaking to the King. "Why does she get to watch the girl? We can watch~" he stomped his foot.

"She can do it without detection," Jareth stated. "Can you?"

Squee sniffled, pouted and screwed up his face, "I don't see that as much of a plus."

"You like creating strife," commented the king with dead calm. "Jingle has her uses, as do you."

"I'm better," Squee stated cockily. "I'm scarier, and better."

Jingle stared with wide eyes at her fellow goblin, when the King tightened his fingers on her shoulder she knew he wanted her to remain silent. She locked her lips, knowing Squee was sinking his own ship.

"I'm prettier too!" The goblin in the gaudy costume ran off the porch toward the bayou.

"He's going to try and ride another gator," Jingle lamented.

"He's going to get eaten one of these days," warned Artemis.

"If I was not worried about what that would do to the poor gators," Jareth stated coolly, "I'd allow it to happen. It might teach that idiot a well deserved lesson."

"A snake bite didn't," Jingle reminded the King lightly. "How's the snake doing?"

"We had to send it to a snake doctor," Artemis quipped with a snicker. "Poor thing is suffering with indigestion…"

Jareth listened to the banter with a raised brow, "Jingle, how long have you worked at the castle?"

"Long enough to know that Squee is a braggart;" She crossed her arms lightly. "Why are you thinking of replacing me?"

"Not at all," Jareth leaned back and smiled at her, it was a cold serious smile, "In fact little girl, I'm thinking of promoting you."

Once more the brow went up on the goblin girl, "Are you," she questioned just as seriously as the king, forgetting to pretend to be as foolish as Squee. "I don't think that wise, Sire. Squee would never get over it."

"He'll think you got demoted," Jareth assured the gentle goblin. "Besides, there are few enough goblins with your kind of~ wit."

"Wit," she repeated.

"It takes cunning to pretend to be as irrational as Squee and his followers," Jareth praised gently. "And to have lasted this long without detection… that's resourcefulness that can better serve me out of his ranks." He smiled at the confused goblin. "I've an opening in the ranks of the shadow-walkers. Would you be interested?"

"Shadow-walker," Jingle gulped and tried to stay calm. "Only Hobs are recruited…" her lower lip trembled. "Would I no longer serve in the castle," she was seeing tribulations with this elevation. "I like living in the castle, and serving you directly…" she fought the urge to cry like the babies that they were often accused of stealing. "No, I'll have to decline."

"Jingle girl," Jareth admonished more gently than he'd ever spoken to a goblin before. "Do you really think I'd allow you to be stationed anywhere but close to me? No, I'm offering you a new position, one none of your kind has ever served in before. You will however be the personal shadow-walker of the king."

Hearing the loud ruckus at the bayou Jingle cringed and looked over her shoulder, "I won't take it if it upsets Squee… he's my friend… not a great one, but my friend."

"I'll make it so he's not upset," Jareth promised, "Now be a good goblin and go back to watching Sarah. Stay with her," he urged.

"Unusual little creature," Artemis commented, "Such concern for her fellows."

"She comes from good stock," admitted Jareth recalling others in the Norwood line, all of whom had higher intelligence and better control of their emotions than most goblins. He was thinking of checking out others in that family, and placing them in positions that would give him more ability to keep a handle on goblins like Squee without causing the little idiot to lose face. At that moment he heard more clatter from the bayou and a goblin scream, 'Squee! That's not the end you ride!' Jareth was not certain but he thought he also heard a gator making a rather rude noise. "Artemis, do you like to go sailing?" He stood up and motioned the Scholar to follow, quickly.

--

Sarah looked at the historic building that housed the Southern Yacht Club. It was unmistakably southern in the design and the feel… something that seemed from a gentler age, a bit out of step with the modern world. Hattie dressed in a white nautical top and navy colored slacks placed a straw hat on her head as she alighted from the limo which she'd insisted they use. Sarah took a few steps toward the boardwalk and paused. Hattie came up behind her, "It's very lovely, isn't it?"

"It's different," Sarah agreed. "I feel as if I walked into a time warp… I half expect to see Gipson girls exiting the building."

"Not far from the truth," Hattie hugged the visitor.

Beau was handing out the provisions that had been packed in the trunk of the limo. "Maman, we're going out for the day, not a month." He complained and looked over at Lizzie, "I'm surprised she didn't pack the kitchen sink!" Lizzie and Kristy, already grabbing the hampers and baskets that Hattie had insisted upon, were laughing uncontrollably at Beau's antics. He handed a light basket to his mother, and motioned Sarah to help him grab up the remaining ones. Laden down with the supplies, the group walked over the board walk and toward the marina.

"Before we leave," Hattie promised Sarah, "I'll take you on a tour of the clubhouse." Rolling his eyes, without words Beau gave his opinion of such a tour. Hattie hissed at him and snickered. She then greeted other's who were out for the day, as she headed toward the slip where Beau kept their yacht, the _**La Vie en Rose**_. "My Jolie had this built," Hattie said as they neared the lovely yacht. She pointed to the ship beside it, a yacht with a mast and sail, "That's Beau's baby, the _**Vagabond**_. He sails that when he's not entertaining his mama."

"I'm too long away from home of late to do any proper sailing," Beau complained as he helped the ladies to board the _**La Vie en Rose**_. "And the weather is too changeable at this time of year, much better to take out the pride of our fleet." Hattie once aboard took control of the supplies, and stored them in the galley. Beau waited until she came topside and took a seat, had strapped her hat down so it wouldn't go flying into the drink, before he gunned the engines. Each of the girls was seated as the attractive vessel moved out of the marina and out into the lake proper.

An hour out Beau slowed the speed of the yacht and began to allow it to just drift on the waves of the lake. "Ah now this is what I like," he pointed to other ships, some with sails others with motors, "A quiet day on the lake with locals." He grabbed his cousin's arm and told her something in her ear that made her giggle. She rushed off to return topside with a huge pitcher of some red concoction in one hand and a clear bag with tall plastic drinking cups in the other. "Hurricane any one," Beau drawled as she placed them on a table by Beau's mother.

"You had that all ready to go," accused Hattie, then warned the two northern girls, "Take it easy on these, they will knock your bloomers off."

"Sure," scoffed Lizzie before she began to sputter and cough uncontrollably.

Sarah, more suspicious with good reasons, sipped very lightly at first, "This is good," she said in astonishment and disbelief. She took a longer deeper drink, just as something moving in her peripheral vision caught her attention; a dark yacht was meandering out from a bayou. Something about the yacht sent shock waves through her. "Who's that," she asked moving toward the rail.

"That's Mr. Pommeroi," Hattie supplied the answer, she watched the girls reaction to the name, and when there was none she continued. "His yacht is called the _**Flying Dutchman**_."

"Wasn't that the ship in the legend that could not land?" Lizzie asked still sputtering.

"Actually there are several tales of the Dutchman…" Beau said watching the dark ship pass theirs at a snail's pace. "In one the arrogant captain kills his crew and is cursed by a sea hag…cursed to sail with a dead man crew, condemned to bring death to all who see his ship…"

"Another is that he did battle with the devil, and the devil cursed him to sail forever the spectral seas," Sarah's voice became faraway and wistful, "The demon left him one shred of hope for redemption… he could land once every seven years…and if he found a woman who would love him in spite of the truth of who and what he was…."

"That's a long shot," Lizzie said hoarsely from the coughing fit. "I mean what woman could love a specter?"

Sarah sipped the hurricane, her eyes following the slowly meandering dark yacht. "Mr. Pommeroi you said?" she asked Hattie.

"Yes," she too watched the ship move off. "He's from a very old family here… very powerful."

Sarah looked over her shoulder as Hattie took a seat, and Beau sat beside her. They were telling Kristy something and she was laughing. Lizzie laughed even though her throat was raw. Sarah looked once more toward the dark ship moving slowly away. Just as she was about to turn away a man in a light blue shirt came on deck. He leaned over the rail and looked at the water; his body language was very easy to read. He was forlorn and solitary. The sun gave the fair hair on his hair a halo effect and Sarah felt the breath catch in her throat. She'd only seen hair that shade once in her life. The figure on the other ship moved from the rail toward the bow of his ship, with his back to Sarah she could only see that he was one of the most striking men she'd ever seen. Fingers trembling she lifted the hurricane glass up to her lips and drained it.

"Bebe," Beau called to her, "Come we are going to have a fresco lunch and then explore one of the abandoned old plantations…" He looked at her empty glass compared to the others that were more than half filled. Standing up he moved toward her quickly in case she keeled over. "Sarah."

She shoved her glass out, "Got any more of this," she demanded.

"Sarah," Beau pleaded. "Go easy, these are not girly drinks."

"More," Sarah shook her glass at him, "More." The young man took her glass and she moved to the rail staring after the dark ship. "Sail on," she murmured. "Sail on…"

--

Artemis, already on the bow turned to see the King, and noticed lighter colored yacht behind them. "I say, who is that?" he asked gently. "That's a right fine ship…"

Jareth took a seat, a sly smile on his lips, "That is the _**La Vie en Rose**_; it belongs to Hattie…" the smile stayed as the king closed his eyes and let the sun shine upon his face.

Artemis frowned, "What did you do," he demanded harshly. "Did you torment that poor girl again?"

Jareth looked up at him, "Artemis, the two ships didn't even pass within two hundred feet of each other…. How could I torment her… I'm surprised at you." Jareth admonished before he closed his eyes again. He didn't think he'd ever forget the look on dear Sarah's face when he came out to the deck. 'You remember me,' he thought to himself.

Artemis shook his head, and went up to where the captain had his hands on the wheel that directed the ship. "How close were you to the _**La Vie en Rose**_," he asked.

"Too close," the pale figure stated. "He's playing a dangerous game, and I should know."

"Captain Falkenburg," Jareth's voice below them carried without him raising it. "I'll thank you not to discuss my business."

Both the Captain and the Scholar, warned, silently parted. Artemis returned to where Jareth was basking in the sun. "Sire," his voice was contrite. "I am a faithful servant to you and to your causes." Jareth opened an eye, "However I cannot sanction this… mindless… persecution of the girl…"

"I'm not tormenting her, I'm not persecuting her," Jareth stated, "I'm just reminding her…"

"Of what," demanded the Scholar once more forgetting his place, "Of how vindictive and cruel you can be?"

"Of me," Jareth whispered very quietly. "I'm just reminding her of me."

--

Hattie insisted on feeding everyone, and she firmly took the hurricane glass out of Sarah's hand, "You can have more of that poison later," she maintained. She instructed Lizzie and Kristy on which of the hampers to bring up. "I always pack enough for at least two meals when we go out," she told Sarah whom she put to work setting up the foldout table. "The fresh air and water always gives one a good appetite, no?"

Her mind taken off the strange man and the dark yacht, Sarah's mood lightened up. "I think you're right." She looked at the shoreline of the lake. "This place is so… mysterious…and haunting."

Hattie looked at the shoreline as well, "It has a dark history, this part of my New Orleans." She admitted softly. "There are things here that no one wants to know about."

"You mean like voodoo and black magic?" Sarah placed the cutlery out on the table along with the picnic plates that Hattie had brought with.

"That and other things," Hattie said with sadness, before she changed the subject. "The plantation that Beau has arranged for you girls to explore is very old… and I suppose it will be torn down or fall down in some big blow."

Sarah finished her task, "Aren't you going to explore it with us?"

Hattie place a hand under the girl's chin. "No, bebe, I'm not." She snorted lightly. "I prefer to sit here on the deck and bask." She waved Lizzie and Kristy over with their baskets. "For now, let us have a fine meal… and then you children can go exploring to your heart's content."

Beau poured glasses of iced tea for each of them, "And perhaps we'll end this day at Papa Thibodeaux's."

"Are they open again," questioned Kristy. "I heard they closed for a bit."

"Nothing keeps Papa Thibodeaux down," Hattie said with a strange gleam in her eye. "His place is full of music, food and drinks…It's a one of a kind Cajun night spot, something you should not miss," her eye wandered over to Sarah. "I think you'll find it interesting, Char."

"We can dance the night away," Kristy crowed as she took her place at the table. "Dance until we melt our socks!"

Lizzie raised her tea, and toasted, "To Papa Thibodeaux's and a night to remember!"


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15.**_

Beau had picked the old Gedde plantation for the afternoon's exploration. "This place has a dark and hideous history," he told the girls as they wandered through the rough cut brush path at the edge of the bayou. The yacht was docked at a rickety old wooden slip, which looked like a good strong wind would take it down. "The Gedde family was free African Creoles of French descent," Beau explained. "They settled here in the early nineteenth century. Some say they came out of Haiti, bringing a new strain of cane to the delta." He looked at the girls. "They however made a good deal more of their wealth out of the slave trade."

"They sold other people of color," Sarah gasped.

"Happened all the time," Kristy sadly acknowledged. "And Gedde were one of the most powerful families of color here, I heard even Marie Laveau wanted nothing to do with them." She whispered in a husky voice, "They say this place is haunted."

Beau watched the reactions of his guests, Lizzie's eyes shone like diamonds with excitement. Sarah on the other hand looked ever so slightly skeptical, and Beau found that amusing. Amusing enough to press the issue, "There have been tales of people gone missing when they come here," he agreed. "Long after the family was gone."

"Did they die off," Sarah asked as she let her eyes wander about the overgrown grounds.

"No," Beau whispered, "They just disappeared, leaving no trace." Getting very close to Sarah he growled darkly, "They left their dinner on the table, wine in their glasses, bread was buttered… and not a bite was taken… Whoosh, they were gone… and their servants with them."

Sarah looked at the man, unconvinced and cynical. "Right," she quipped. "And when was this?"

"Back before the end of the Northern Invasion," he teased with a coy smile. "And they have not been back since." He left the girl staring as he took the lead down the path. "The house has stood as it is for the last hundred and then some years. Several folks tried to move in, only to move right out again." He pointed to a two story manor house, with tall white columns, "The picture perfect Southern mansion, right?"

Lizzie looked at the deserted house, "I expect to see ladies in long sweeping gowns, and gentlemen carrying mint juleps." She walked forward when the path widened. "Why this lawn must have been what the lawn at Twelve Oaks looked like in Margret Mitchell's mind."

"The graciousness of a time gone by," Beau agreed sadly. "Although I never read of any recorded large parties celebrated here," the man continued his dissertation on the history of the plantation and its owners. "The Gedde family were wealthy, but not accepted in the Gentile Communion, that's what the olde society in N`Orleans was referred to as. The first head of the family was Jacque Gedde, and he was powerful and mean as a snake. There's a story that he sold his youngest daughter into slavery when she refused to marry the Creole man of his choosing. His son, Pierre Ramon Gedde was not much better in temperament." Beau pointed to a deformed tree that was sweeping the lawn. "He used to hold public beatings, tied whatever slave had displeased him or his own children naked to that poor old tree… He'd beat them with a cat-o-nine until their backs were raw meat. Little wonder they say his wife went insane, they also say she poisoned him after he beat their middle son to death…"

"That's horrid," Lizzie groaned looking at the beauty of the deserted place with less enthusiasm.

"After Pierre there was Charles, who was followed by the last of the Gedde's… Jean-Baptiste Gedde," Beau motioned the girls to follow him, and he continued to speak. "Jean-Baptiste was the worst of them all, from all accounts. He liked to flaunt the fact that he was Free Colored, a land owner, and that his plantation was one of the most productive… it didn't matter that he was as cruel as the day is long." Beau pointed to the house, "He built the two wings on the house, in celebration of his marriage to the renowned French Creole beauty, Marie Primot. The poor creature was forced into the marriage by her father who owed a great deal of gambling money to Jean-Baptiste. The cad forced the poor girl to endure his idea of wedded bliss…He flaunted his many slave mistresses, insisting that his wife accept them as part of the family. He dressed poor Marie like a harlot and paraded her through town as often as he could."

Kristy added, "They say she killed herself before the first year of the marriage was over."

"Others say she was forced to live as a slave when she refused to share Jean-Baptiste's bed." Beau stated, "Which ever story is true, she was not seen in the town again when the first year of that marriage was over."

Sarah noticed an area that was surrounded by a stone wall, "What's over there Beau?"

"That's their family burial grounds," Beau placed his hand under her elbow and turned her away, "Best not to disturb them, Char… it is said the Gedde's don't rest easy."

Lizzie shuddered, "That's sort of creepy."

"Most of the old Plantations have burial grounds," Kristy said matter of factually. "Some go back to the early 1700's."

The Northern blonde shook her head, "How many have them so close to the front door?"

"Gedde men liked their possessions close," Beau stated, "Living or dead, mattered not." Beau shrugged. "I got permission for us to enter the house if you girls like," Beau said as they neared the stone work steps up to the veranda of the manor house. "The main floor of the house itself is still actually in pretty good condition, very little termite damages."

Kristy declined the offer, "I'm not going in there," she said firmly. "Last time you took me through there I had nightmares for a month."

Lizzie tweaked the nose of the younger girl, "Silly baby," she teased before turning to Sarah, "Come on pal, it's up to us to show that Northern girls aren't scar babies." Extending her hand to Sarah she smiled broadly.

Taking the offered hand Sarah giggled, "No, we're just insane."

Beau winked at his cousin, "Now don't you go wandering off Char, you stay put." He moved forward to tap on the door, which was opened by a guard who looked at Beau's papers before allowing them entry. "This is the public floor," Beau said as they entered the wide foyer. "You can't see it but the land slops down, and the kitchens and work rooms are beneath us." He walked to one wing and pointed out the family parlor and the library. "Was a time when the books here could bring the bravest of men to their knees," he stated. "The Gedde family was very versed in all kinds of perversions, and they earned their dreaded status. One wonders why it was so many women were married into this hellish clan." He pointed to a picture over the mantle. "That's Marie Primot, the last mistress of this house."

"She's beautiful, but so sad looking," Lizzie remarked looking at the painting. Something in the background of the painting had caught Sarah's eyes and she was struck silent. Lizzie turned to her, "Don't you think so…" She stared at her friend. "Sarah, are you alright?"

Feeling cold and bothered, Sarah shook her head no, "That painting is creepy," she complained as she ran her hands up her cold arms. "I can see how this place earned its reputation."

Beau nodded, "It's not a pleasant house, Char." He led the way out of the gallery. "Spirits here are not at rest." He moved toward the dining room, "They have long since cleared away the last uneaten meal," his voice lowered. "Changed the linens and put the dishes away… but one feels the uneasiness and disturbances still in the air. Most of these furnishings are original to the house," he turned to look at the girls. "The house has had a series of owners since the Gedde clan vanished… none lasted more than a few months at best. One owner refused to even come onto the property, he had the lands tenant farmed and left the house as is…. It was a head quarters for Rum Runners in the twenties, and then became a drug haven in the sixties." Beau drew the girls back toward the foyer. "In the eighties there was talk of turning the house into a bed and breakfast… but the money boys dropped the idea." He brought them back outside the house. "The upper floor is undergoing some restorations…" He thanked the guard and joined the girls on the veranda. "The present owner, a friend of mine has hopes to open it up again as a historical landmark, and learning museum, privately owned and funded."

"Would people really be interested in visiting such a place," Lizzie asked.

"It's the gladiator mentality," Sarah surmised, "The hint of something dangerous or unsavory brings out the curious."

"Exactly so," Beau agreed. "Well ladies, if you care to see the slaves cabins," he motioned to a path.

Sarah shook her head, "I've seen enough." Something was bothering the girl, and she could not put her finger on it.

"I'm with Sarah," Kristy said as a shiver ran through her. "This place is kind of creepy Beau, could we just go?"

Beau looked over at Lizzie, "You want to make it unanimous?"

Lizzie seemed torn, "I'm doing my masters work on slavery," she muttered under her breath before she turned to the young man, "I'd really like to see those slave cabins, just as a point of reference."

Beau looked at his cousin and the other Northern girl, "Kristy you and Sarah start back to the yacht, Lizzie and I will make a quick detour to the cabins…" He extended a hand to the pert blonde. "Stick to the path and you'll have no problems."

"I know," Kristy said firmly, "Mama didn't raise a fool you know."

--

Hattie was sipping a mint tea as she basked in the spring sunlight. You could not have asked for a more perfect day. She was not surprised when a shadow hid her face from the sun. "Jareth," she greeted him without opening her eyes.

"Hattie," he returned the greeting cordially. "You look lovely," he took a seat beside her. "I take it Beau took the ladies to see Mansion Gedde." His tone registered his disapproval.

Still unwilling to open her eyes, she mused, "Now Jareth, you know he did… did you think me unaware of the goblin you have staked out at my home and supplying you with information on all our movements?"

"Be glad it's that goblin," Jareth warned curtly. "She's at least respectful of you, and your property."

"Don't threaten me, Char." Hattie warned the king in response. "I'm not a helpless girl!"

"Sarah's not helpless," Jareth said quietly under his breath.

This information interested the woman. "Is she not?" Her eyes opened and she let them sweep over to where Jareth sat poised. "What did you go and do, Goblin King?"

Jaw clenching, the man looked at her with hostile eyes, "I'm not going to discuss my private affairs with you Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason," his tone was intimidating and unfriendly.

The woman gave him a scrunched up smile, "You went and fell in love, didn't you, Char?"

"Hattie," his teeth were tightly clenched, "Don't go there."

Purring like a well fed cat, the woman curled in her deck chair and looked at the man. "Jareth, this is a side of you I never thought I'd see," the sorciere and N`Orleans Wischard gave the King of the Goblins a wistful smile. "It makes you seem less untouchable."

"Why the Gedde house," Jareth changed the subject. "He knows you cannot step foot on that contaminated and condemned soil."

"There are many such places," Hattie stated factually. "The bayou is full of dark secrets as you well know, Char." She was thinking of the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation, and the secrets that Jareth kept hidden there. "Some places I can go to… others, no."

"But the Gedde…" Jareth's voice was full of concern.

"Beau is part of the movement to save the house from destruction," Hattie expressed the information with long suffering patients. "Jareth, it is history… and for most a place that is full of mystery. For those of us who are descended from the Tribunal, it is a weighty responsibility. Beau knows that, and he feels that keeping the place from going under a wrecking ball… keeping it visible is a warning to others, and a reminder to those of us who are now the heads of the Magix here in N`Orleans. Char, it's an ugly past, yes… but it is our past… and we must have it before us~ least we forget it." She gave him a smug smile. "You know better than anyone what happens when history is forgotten."

"Touché," he acknowledged. "Still I can think of a dozen much more pleasant places to bring the young ladies to."

Hattie shrugged, "I think Beau wanted to hear comments on the ongoing work from a few who are unaware of his association with the plantation." She waved her hand dramatically. "A bit of needing to hear a fresh perspective, and as both he and Kristy are not yet…fledged…they are free to wander the Gedde lands."

Jareth frowned, "I would have thought that both would have taken the first steps by now…."

"Kristy's life for now is away from the bayous and there is every indication that she will choose a life outside the influences of magic, Char." Hattie's voice was poignant on this point. "Not all of the Channing clan has chosen to accept the mantel I wear." She reminded the king. "Her father has not told her of the darker history of our line, and if things keep going the way they are, he won't. Kristy may live her life outside the circle."

"Beau does not have such a choice," Jareth stated firmly. "He is the heir to the Bodine name as well as a descendant of the Channing sorciere and N`Orleans Wischard."

"He is well aware of his responsibility Char, to the sorciere and N`Orleans Wischard, and to you," the widow remained calm in the face of the Goblin King's concern. "He takes his vows on St. John's, these are the last months before he will no longer be able to step foot on the Gedde lands." There was a note of regret in her tone, and her manner. "All his work and he'll never be able to see it finished, not in person. When Beau takes the vows, he too will be subject to the curse on the Tribunal. He will only be able to see the Gedde manor from the bayou." Shrugging, she looked at the king imploring him to understand. "So I allow him his imprudent choice."

Jareth's face was grim, "He should have taken the vows before now, Hattie."

"Like you Char, he cannot be rushed." Hattie warned. "Nor can he be swayed from a campaign pursuant to a certain young lady."

"You'd best be warning my Godson that I'm not a patient man," Jareth stood up preparing to leave.

"Then perhaps you should practice becoming one," Hattie suggested gently. "For if you plan on being more than a bad dream or a passing fancy to that Raven haired beauty, it will take time and patience. I've a very strong feeling that you left that young woman a bit shattered."

"I left her shattered," the King of the Labyrinth growled before he turned to look at his long time friend. "Woman you don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about!"

"Char," her voice was low, quiet and all too calm. "I am giving you this advice as a friend."

Regretting his outburst, Jareth heaved a long and heavy sigh, "Hattie, what is between Sarah and me, is just that… between us."

"That may be," agreed the widow, "However, Char, I'm responsible for her for now." She became more formal, "Sire, do understand… I will not stand in the way of what fate has planned, however I will not allow you or anyone else to play with the pretty child, and that includes my own son."

Smirking like a schoolboy, Jareth began to snort, "I like playing with that child…" his voice dropped to a guttural growl, "That very very pretty child."

"You're a cad," Hattie scolded with a waging finger. "Seriously, Jareth..."

Taking hold of the waging finger, Jareth knelt beside the woman's deck chair. "Hattie, I promise you, no harm with befall Sarah, not from me."

Nodding her acceptance of his stance, she sighed deeply. "I'll take you at your word." She heard voices, "Make scarce," she suggested. The last thing the woman needed was someone seeing her entertaining the Goblin King.

Jareth listened to the voice, and nodded, "Au revoir," he whispered as he sunk back into the shadows that were deepening on the yacht.

Hattie turned to see Sarah and Kristy coming aboard. "Where are Beau and Lizzie," she asked pouring mint tea for the pair.

"They stopped to see the salve quarters," Kristy said still bothered.

Hattie noted the slightly hostile tone in the girl's voice, "Char," she questioned. "Are you not feeling well?"

"That place gets creepier all the time," complained Kristy taking a seat on the foot of the deck chair her aunt occupied. "I sometimes wonder why it wasn't just allowed to fall into decay." Her voice was bitter.

Placing a hand under her niece's chin, Hattie soothed the girl's unnerved state of mind. "Char, in time you will understand that just sweeping the dust under the carpet does not make it go away." She looked at Sarah who was also disturbed by the Gedde visit. "I take it that Beau told you the awful stories about that place."

"I've a feeling," Sarah said in a tight voice, "That Beau cleaned it up for polite company, but yes, he told us." Looking a bit more than unsettled she looked at Hattie, "I don't blame you for not wanting to step on the land here. It's got some kind of… unrest."

"I warned you," Hattie stated calmly. "This is N`Orleans Char… the ghosts of the past don't rest easy. Not here."

"If half of what Beau alluded to is true," Sarah rubbed the goose bumps on her arms rapidly trying to warm her chilled soul. "I can understand why they don't rest easy. The Gedde were…"

"Despicable," Hattie finished for the distressed girl. "Yes, they were… and they paid the price for their arrogance, Char. Trust me on this."

Sarah crumpled to sit on the foot of Hattie's chair beside Kristy. "I'll take your word for it."

Hattie comforted both the girls as they awaited the return of Beau and Lizzie. "It is not always a pleasant statement, but a true one my darlings… Those who ignore history…"

"Are doomed to repeat it," Sarah finished for the woman.

--

Beau observed Lizzie's reactions to the slave cabins, "Is it what you thought it would be?"

Distress and anguish were well written on the pretty blonde's face. "It's worse," she whispered harshly. "How could the masters of this house allow such… squalor?" She looked at the man, her eyes filled with the horrors of this place. "The Gedde family had to be aware of the conditions."

"They created the conditions, as you call them," Beau stepped closer and placed his hand to the elbow of the distressed woman. "I warned you this was not going to be pleasant."

She nodded, looking at the cabin, "I know, but I had to see for myself."

"And you are facing the horrors of this with dignity," he praised gently. "With eyes wide open." Slowly he drew her closer, "It takes a strong constitution to face this kind of unpleasantness without trying to gloss it over. You're a very strong woman, I'm thinking."

"Not as strong as I should be," she lamented, wanting to cry for the souls of those who had been subjected to the horrors here. "I need a cigarette," she moaned.

Pulling a package from his inner pocket of his jacket, he offered the contents to her. "Don't tell Maman, she disapproves of smoking," he warned as he lit the cigarette she took with trembling fingers. He placed one in his own mouth and lit it as well. "Perhaps we should begin to walk back," he suggested.

"Beau," Lizzie looked up at him slightly unnerved, "Just how involved are you with this place?"

"My involvement is coming to an end," he said gently. "After today, I most likely will not return here." A slow smile came to his lips.

"Good," she whispered as she allowed him to lead her back to the path.

--

Hattie and the girls were enjoying their tea when Beau and Lizzie arrived. The widow looked at the pair; she noted the somberness of the blonde. "Disturbing, yes?"

"Very," Lizzie stated as she sunk to a deck chair.

"What say we forget the unpleasantness of this place," Beau suggested with levity, "Papa Thibodeaux's place is only a few miles from here… and I need me some Étouffée, some crawfish cakes and blackened shrimp!" He began to do a bit of a silly dance on the deck, "And a band with a Cajun beat!"

Hattie nodded, "Well what are you waiting for, son?"

He danced his way over to the steering wheel of the yacht, "Papa Thibodeaux's here we come!"

--

Jareth watched from his yacht the other sail off. "Artemis," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Ever had real Cajun Étouffée," he asked solicitously.

"Can't say as I have," the Scholar looked up from the history he was reading.

"You are in for a treat," Jareth motioned the captain, "Papa Thibodeaux's," he ordered.

The Scholar frowned, and noted the yacht they were following not too closely. "Sire, you're not planning on causing trouble, are you?"

"A man has to eat," Jareth stated before smiling at his companion. "And if the girl just happens to be at the same place as I…" he shrugged roguishly.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16.**_

Papa Thibodeaux's Bayou Bistro sat like a jewel on the shoreline. Long before they could actually see the building, they could hear the music and smell the rich flavorful aroma of the Cajun foods being cooked up. The building had been in the Thibodeaux family for at least a hundred years, but it was in the twenties of the twentieth century that the head of the family had turned the place into a juke joint. No one was sure where the hooch and moonshine had come from that was served, and most were smart enough not to question it. Even the present Papa Thibodeaux didn't ask too many questions, and although legal liquor was now served, there was still a connection to a certain still that was hidden in the bayou.

Strings of odd shaped and even odder colored light bulbs lit the outdoor areas where tables and a dance floor. It looked like a swarm of fireflies had landed. Spanish moss hung like long stringy hair over branches of swamp oaks and Cypress snags. Gently the breeze would catch a bit here and there, making it look like hair blowing in the wind. The building itself was little more than a rundown shack or so it appeared. It was raised above the marshy land it sat upon, and the wide deck that made up the dance floor and seating area sat on stone piers. A long mooring landing gave a place for those who came by water to land. A large parking lot was set closer to the drier land and a wooden pathway led down to the Bistro. Inside the Bistro there was seating for almost one hundred patrons. It was dimly lit as part of the ambiance and rustic charm. And the tables and chairs appeared to have been discarded sets, purchased from a Thrift store. All of the waiters and waitresses looked like college kids, and local kids. They were dressed in blue jeans and all of them wore a tee shirt with the logo of the Bistro, and half aprons. As it was still early, the crowds were still light, however already it was a bustling.

Seeing the young Bodine enter with his mother and several pretty young ladies, Papa Thibodeaux's reaction was to let out a hoot and holler across the room before he reached them. The big bear of a man embraced the young Creole and then bowed politely to his mother. "Bless my soul, Lady Hattie," he said in greeting, "Been quite some time since you graced the bayou."

Hattie took the polite greeting in stride, as she did most things in life. "Papa Thibodeaux," she held the man's hand firmly. "Our niece has come home, and brought with her two Northern friends." Motioning the girls forward she introduced them, "You know Kristy, and this is Lizzie Braden and Sarah Williams. Girls this is our host, Papa Thibodeaux."

The man looked at Kristy in surprise and awe, "This can't be your brother's baby girl, she's much too grown up to be that skinny kneed little thing." He opened his arms expecting that Kristy would reciprocate with a hug, he was not disappointed. "Bebe, it be too long since you come home."

"I know," she agreed snuggling into the embrace, "Papa, it's so good to be home….These are my friends," she waved a hand toward the pair standing off to the side.

The man then looked at her friends, "Welcome to the Bayou, ladies." He motioned for one of the waitresses to come and seat the guests of his friend Hattie. "Dora will take you to a good place to hear the band and dance and enjoy the evening." He looked at Beau, "We have a steamer special tonight you gonna love, bebe! Just leave the menu choices up to me tonight, Beau." He then turned to Dora, "Take their drink orders and see to it that they have all they need."

Dora, a girl with peaches and cream skin smiled broadly, "Leave it to me Papa," she insisted. "I've got a great table close to the band, but not on top of them!" Her voice was enthusiastic and she spoke with a very thick Cajun accent. "You like this table, yes?" she waited until Hattie was seated comfortably, "I'll take your drink orders now," removing her order pad from her apron she smiled at them. Hattie and Beau both ordered Bloody Marys, Lizzie opted for a Julip Martini, while Kristy ordered a Southern Sweet Tea. Dora looked at Sarah, "And for you, char?"

"Hurricane," Sarah said quietly.

Dora paused before writing the order down, "You ever have a Thibodeaux Hurricane," she asked with a strange expression on her pretty face. Sarah shook her head, Dora leaned closer, "You not driving are you?" When Sarah shook her head again the girl shrugged and wrote down the order. "I'll be back with your drinks and appetizers," she informed the party at the table.

Sarah leaned across the table and asked Hattie, "What's a Thibodeaux Hurricane," she was only now concerned.

"It's nearly twice the size of the one you had on the yacht," Hattie said with amusement.

"And twice as potent," Beau warned, "So you go slowly, bebe."

Dora returned a few minutes later with a huge tray, she set down the drinks and a round flat platter that was piled high with the appetizers. "Bon appetite," she said as she maneuvered through the growing crowd to the kitchen to pick up another order.

Lizzie stared at the platter, "Okay, what is all this?"

Beau answered before Kristy could stop laughing, "Fried Gator, fried shrimp, crab cakes and assorted fried veggies," he pointed to the dip, "Now be careful with the dip, it's got a kick to it; it's made with horseradishes."

"Fried Gator," Sarah challenged having taken a sip off the large Hurricane glass, she was feeling a bit sassy.

"Caught fresh this morning," Beau met the challenge and gave as good as he got, taking one of the fired spherical shapes into his long lean fingers he waved it at Sarah's mouth. "Give it a try Char, you may find you like it."

Sarah was not sure if he meant the morsel in his hand or something else, but she was feeling giddy and opened her mouth to accept the Bayou treat. Her eyes opened wide as she chewed the hot morsel. "Oh God," she exclaimed, "That's good…"

"Told you," Beau stated with a slow lazy smile, turning to Lizzie he now waved a morsel at her. "And you Miss Braden?" he asked formally.

"I happen to like gator," she leaned forward and took the morsel in her teeth. "This is better than most," she agreed.

"Papa is very picky about his gator," Hattie teased as she helped herself to a crab cake. "Everything he serves is caught fresh! And most of it comes from this bayou right here, including the gator."

"It's not farmed," Kristy said knowingly. "Not like other places. He prefers game meat to be just that, game."

Sarah helped herself to a crab cake and munched silently, taking long sipps of her potent drink to wash down the fried treats.

--

Standing near the door to greet more guests of his Bistro Papa Thibodeaux felt the change in the wind and instinct told him he was about to receive a guest. A very important guest; by the feel of the vibrations that were now echoing in the very floor planks. He turned to the doorway and looked at the long pier; two shadowy figures were ambling his way, leisurely. "Pommeroi," he said under his breath and motioned for one of his waiters to come close, "The reserved table; the one in the corner~ see to it," he ordered sharply. The young man nodded, without questioning the order he speed off to see to the set up of the table that was always held in reserve. Papa braced himself to receive the notable visitor. "Monsieur Pommeroi," he said extending his hand in formal greeting. "Bonswar," his voice trembled slightly.

"Papa Thibodeaux," Jareth greeted him equally formally. "Bonswar, mon ami."

"I have your table being readied now," the owner of the Bistro informed the elegantly dressed guest. "We are honored to have you here." He took notice of the older man accompanying the mysterious Monsieur Pommeroi, "You are both welcome." He snapped his fingers and the young man who had just finished setting up the reserved table came rushing over. "Monsieur Pommeroi, this is Gaspar, my youngest… he will act as your waiter this evening."

Gaspar bowed to the man of importance, "Monsieur Pommeroi, it is an honor to serve you."

Jareth followed the younger Thibodeaux to the raised table in the shadows, "Thank you Gaspar," he said taking his seat regally. "We'll have a pitcher of your father's Bloody Mary Punch." He motioned Artemis to the seat that would afford them both the best viewing of the rest of the Bistro.

"Bloody Mary Punch," questioned the Scholar once the young man had moved off.

"Believe me, it is superb," the stormy eyed man said as he let his eyes seek out the raven haired girl at the table with Hattie. "And it goes well with the Cajun foods we'll be eating." Even as he spoke Gaspar Thibodeaux returned with the pitcher of the intoxicating punch. Like his father he had a happy honest face, and his smile could light up the world. He set the tall hurricane styled glasses that had been rimmed in a mixture of salt and cayenne pepper on the table. Generously he poured the red concoction in the pitcher that was frosty and perspiring. He then added an extra shot of Tabasco, and garnished the glasses with de-stringed celery sticks.

"To your good health Monsieur Pommeroi," the young man said with a very thick Cajun accent. "I'll be back with your appetizers in a few minutes; Papa ordered something very special for you."

Raising his glass the Goblin King toasted the son of his host, "_**A votre santé**_," taking a sip he smiled as the liquid warmed him. "Perfection Gaspar," he assured the young man watching.

Artemis looked at the glass, his eyes full of misgivings; however he had no desire to insult neither his king nor his host. Raising the glass he took a slow, shallow sip. The spicy flavor of the liquid slid down his throat like a river of fire. "Oh my," he gasped to the delight of the man watching him. "That's extraordinary!" It had brought tears to the eyes of the scholar.

Jareth chuckled softly, "Easy Artemis, this stuff is lethal." The young man serving them had excused himself, returning with a platter of fresh icy oysters on the half shell. Jareth eyed the platter with a gleam in his eyes, "Tell your father I am touched that he remembered," he instructed the younger man. "Artemis, you've never had oysters until you've had a Thibodeaux Oyster on the half shell." Squeezing lemon, adding a shot of Louisiana hot sauce, Jareth lifted the chilled shell and tipped it into his mouth.

After his first oyster, Artemis could see why his King was so impressed. It was fresh and sweet and cold, and the flavor subtle instead of fishy. Instead of some crackers, the Thibodeaux Bistro served thin slices of freshly toasted baggett bread spread with a creamy garlic butter. The portions were generous, and the feel within the bistro was unhurried. The scholar relaxed in the atmosphere of pleasant diversion. He watched the servers bringing out trays with bits and pieces of fired morsels. "What is that dish, Sire?"

"Fired gator," Jareth said downing another oyster, "Don't care for it myself, however if you should like to try it…" without waiting, Jareth motioned Gaspar over. "My friend here has never had Cajun cuisine; ask Papa to make up a small sampler if you please Gaspar."

Blushing slightly and very glad that few could see the color rise to his cheeks, Artemis stammered, "Sire you didn't have to…"

"Enjoy this evening Artemis," suggested the King. "After all you don't get on this side of the mists often."

"True, true," the scholar admitted with remorse. "My duties keep me in the confines of the castles library." Having said it, he regretted the words almost instantly. "Not that I don't enjoy my duties," he stammered.

Unaffected, Jareth shrugged, "I don't think badly of you for desiring more adventurous pastimes, Artemis." He continued to devour the aphrodisiacal bivalve mollusks. "Believe me, Artemis, I understand how dull the Kingdom is when there's no runner." His eyes moved toward the place where the raven haired girl was sitting carefree and enjoying her appetizers and Hurricane. "Nothing has ever been as exciting as a certain runner," he mused. "She does not yet realize that in truth she's running still…"

The scholar was distracted from continuing the conversation as Gaspar returned with a tray full of fired bits and pieces as well as some steamed delicacies. The younger Thibodeaux pointed out each of the morsels to Artemis before turning his attention to the King, "Monsieur Pommeroi, we have a wonderful Cajun Étouffée this evening."

"I look forward to enjoying it," Jareth wiped his hands in a towel moisten with Lemon water. He chuckled as he watched the scholar enjoying his first taste of fired gator bits. "I told you," he boasted.

"Never doubted you for a moment," Artemis mused as he sunk deep into the depths of a foodgasim.

--

Sarah laughed; the soft trill was nearly infectious. She reached for yet another morsel from the common platter being shared at the table. "I don't think I've ever had so many different kinds of sea food fried before," she teased.

"Save room, Char!" Hattie teased back, "This is just the appetizer!"

Lizzie was laughing too, "I swear I've never had so much fun," she leaned into Kristy and both girls giggled uncontrollably.

Dora came by the table," Everything okay?" she picked up the empty platter, "Cajun Étouffée is next, and it's just coming to the boil now." She moved away amid the scurrying other help. The room was starting to fill, and friends called out to one another. Dora passed the others on her way to the kitchens where Gaspar stole a quick kiss, leaving her breathless, and blushing.

--

The black sleep speedboat came into the channel, the engine cut back, and it glided smoothly into the bayou. Gyles' skills at navigating made it seem like the boat was sliding on glass, as he had very little wake. It was as if he were part of the elegant black sea craft.

Jolene Norichace stared at her brother with little flames of contempt, "Papa Thibodeaux's Bayou Bistro," she asked in a dark and dangerous tone. "You must be kidding," there was no hiding the anger or the betrayal she felt at being forced to come to somewhere so banal and boring.

"The offering is here," he informed his sister quietly; "Where to better come into contact with my prey but on a crowded dance floor?"

The grimace on the pretty but treacherous lips turned to almost a sneer, "Forgive me my doubts." She purred while she smoothed her skirt. "I know understand why you requested that I dress so… unadorned."

"I believe the word I used was subtle," he countered with determination. "Jolene, this quail is skittish enough; I don't need you scaring her off."

"Point made," she conceded. "But once you've snared the bird, I will return to my personal choices in wardrobe."

"Once the bird is sacrificed you can run naked through St. Louis Cathedral for all I care." He stated firmly as he steered the lustrous black craft into the slip. "Until then, behave."

The dock-man seeing the black custom Baja pulling seamlessly into the dock muttered under his breath. He pulled on the microphone at his collar, "Tell Papa the Norichace Sea-Spider has just pulled in."

--

The girl now on duty at the entrance heard the scratchy squawk, and her face lost color. "Cover me," she said to one of the other greeters, as she rushed off to find the owner who was now on the main floor of the shack seeing to his guests. Seeing him she moved to his side, "Papa," she touched his arm, before whispering to his ear. "Norichace Sea-Spider has just landed."

Papa Thibodeaux nodded, "Seat them, but keep an eye on that pair." He moved swiftly toward Hattie's table. Arriving to find the young people enjoying their Étouffée, he announced glibly. "The steamer pots will be served in a few moments," bending close to Hattie he whispered. "Norichace," before he moved on. Hattie stayed calm, her hand slipped into her pocket, felt the gris gris she'd placed there.

--

Papa Thibodeaux was advancing on the door, Jareth in his elevated corner could see everything that was happening. He saw the handsome couple enter the shack, and witnessed the cool if polite greeting they were given by the owner. Artemis saw a slight change in the King's body language, and turned in his seat to get a better look at where the attention of his King had drifted to. It was not often that Artemis had a bad reaction to anything, but the couple at the door made the hair on the back of his neck tingle and stand. He turned his eyes to the king, "Sire?"

--

Sarah saw the big black steamer pot being carried by Dora. "Is that for us?" She gasped.

"I would say yes Char," Beau was finishing his Étouffée nosily. "Dora, you're right on time," he praised, however his smile faltered seeing the concern in the waitress's eyes. She was not looking at them but at something beyond. Turning his head he too witnessed the entrance of the dark twins. Steeling himself he painted his smile back on and reached out to help the waitress settle the full container. "Thank you Char," he said in a voice meant to give the girl support.

Dora looked at him, her smile returning. "Bon Appetite!"

Beau opened the pot carefully, hot steam was pouring off the lid even before it was cracked open. Shrimp, crabs and crawfish were steamed with baby red potatoes, pearl onions, corn on the cob and links of spicy sausage all mixed with whole heads of garlic and spices. With the tongs that Dora had left Beau began to dole out the goodies to each of the ladies. "Nothing like a good Cajun boil," he praised as he served himself last. "Dig in," he gloated.

Sarah watched Hattie, saw that the woman was using her fingers and no utensils. She mimicked the older woman, breaking the crunchy bodies open to suck out the meat. The spices and garlic gave the boil a unique flavor. Hattie winked at Sarah who was following her method of picking items. Beau poured more and more Louisiana hot sauce on his plate, dipping the crab into it before chomping down on it. Kristy picked apart the crawfish, peeling the layers and eating the delicate meat.

--

Jareth leaned on his elbow, watching the girl mimic her hostess. His eyes narrowed as her fingers lifted bits of crab to her lips. A low growl lodged in the back of his throat and pleasantly tortured the King. "Artemis, remind me when we get home to have a bayou installed." He whispered distractedly.

"A bayou, sire?" the scholar questioned turning to observe the Goblin King. "What on earth for?"

"I've a hankering to have crawfish and crabs available," mused the smitten king.

Artemis looked at the table that had been under the king's scrutiny since their arrival, but it was Hattie whom he sought out and not the young lady who his King was intent upon. He watched for a moment as she broke a crab shell open to enjoy the treasure within. His breath caught in his throat as he observed the pagan ritual and pleasure experienced by the widow. "I'll put the order in myself," he said gulping down the lump that had gathered in his throat. He reached for his drink, and with a shaking hand drew it to his parched lips. "How big do you want it to be?"

"I wonder if I can convince Papa Thibodeaux to operate a branch over on our side," Jareth expressed the thought aloud finding himself drooling as he watched Sarah. Distracted and unable to concentrate on the words his King was expressing, the scholar nodded in agreement.

--

Papa Thibodeaux worked his way through the crowd, unhurriedly and making sure each table he stopped at was satisfied with their evening. He dreaded the moment he came into contact with the Norichace twins. However as they were guests in his establishment, he had no choice but to greet them. "Gyles Norichace," he said in a quiet polite monotone.

The dark Creole looked at him with disdain, "Papa Thibodeaux," he knew only too well he was not exactly welcomed. "Good crowd this evening."

Papa looked about, wondering who it was that had attracted the attentions of the Norichace twins, neither of which he cared for. "It is, and everyone is in a good mood." It was meant to be a warning as well as a statement. "BeauSoleil is performing tonight and they always bring a big draw."

"So I hear tell," Gyles said equally politely, "I was telling my sister we should really sample more of the local~ color."

The owner of the Bistro did not react; he gave the pair a curt but polite smile and moved on to the next table. Jolene hissed to her brother, "He is insignificant."

"Pawns have their uses," cautioned her brother, he was honing in on Sarah. "Besides it is not the owner of this establishment that draws us near, is it?"

Jolene's dark eyes moved over the crowd to where the 'offering' was seated, "No, indeed."

--

Papa's moving through the crowd had brought him close to where the entrance of the inner room stood. He could hear a rowdy crowd of male voices outside on the deck. Seeing one of the flustered younger waitresses come in he motioned her over. He raised a brow, and received the answer to the unasked question. "Tulane frats~" she said in disgust, "The _**Delta Tau Delta**_ boys and Mandy just told me that the **_Pi Kappa Alpha_**** house is expected too," she grumbled. "Why can't they take their hazing out to some road house? Why do they have to come here?"**

**Papa sympathized with her; however he knew why the Tulane frats came to the bayou. "What happens in the bayou," he reminded her.**

**"Stays in the bayou…" she nodded but added, "I hate the spring rush…" Looking back at the deck, she heaved a heavy sigh.**

**"I'll send some of the boys out to help wrangle those drunken monkeys," Papa promised. "Meanwhile Becky, make sure they eat, don't let them just drink." He too shook his head, "Some of the most brilliant minds in the country, but come the spring they go stupid for two weeks."**

**"I'll take the Mardi Gras crowd any day," Becky grumbled as she headed back out to the deck and the wild frat boys. **

**--**

**The members of the band, **BeauSoleil, having had their dinner and a long break set up once more on the stage that was inside the shack. Brothers Michael and David Doucet came to the stage with their instruments in hand, it was Michael who spotted Hattie, and gave out a whoop. "Hattie!" he shouted. David turned to look down into the crowd as well. But Michael was beginning to rosin up his bow and drew it across the fiddle and nodding to the accordion player, he crowed like a roster.

Hattie closed her eyes and the smile that covered her face told the rest of the members of her table that she could not be happier. "Zydeco," she crowed along with the band as they sang out the words of the happy song. Kristy began to squirm in her seat unable to resist the Cajun music and its happy beat. Lizzie, having left her New York hang-ups at the door, was also getting into the mood. Sarah, still up to her elbows in crab and crawfish, was now eating to the beat.

One of the band members called something out in Creole to Beau who hooted something back, causing the band to laugh.

--

Jolene sipped her drink, "I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered to her brother as the band began its set.

"Once the watch dog has taken to the dance floor," Gyles said looking with contempt at Beau, "I'll move in on our unsuspecting quail. She won't know what hit her."

--

As Hattie and her guests began to enjoy the performance, the stormy eyes of one Goblin King rested on them. He smiled a wickedly smug smile. His scholar sipped the punch judiciously, not wishing to imbibe to the point of drunkenness. Feeling the magic in the music he turned to his King, "Do they know?" he asked wide eyed.

Jareth nodded, "Tis a magic handed down from generation to generation here."

"My word," Artemis gasped. "I thought this side of the mists was less open…"

"Most of this world is," Jareth lamented, "But this," he pointed to the room and the band, and the people falling to the thrall of the music, "This is N`Orleans, char." He leaned on the table, "Magic is still very much alive in the bayou, and respected." His smile widened as he saw how the magical music was affecting his Sarah, "Especially in its music."The dark haired girl, whether by means of music or too much _**Hurricane**_, was under the spell of the bayou magic. Her aura had responded to the stimulus, and had widened and deepened in hue to a rich Indigo; bathing his lady in the life giving energies, and filling her with more power than she was aware of. From his seat, Jareth was finding it difficult not to just rush over, sweep her off her pretty feet and take her there and then.

"Sire," Artemis sensed something was amiss.

"I'm aware," said the voice as stormy eyes darkened.

--

The dance floor was filling up, bodies moved in jumbled unison to the lively music. Hattie was the first to leave the table; she had no partner, and was on the floor celebrating life. She was joined by the three girls and her son. Sarah was on the edge of the group, having empted her Hurricane, and feeling no pain. Her body moved in serpentine precision, undulating and enthralled. Something in the back of her memory kicked in, but it was too late. The hand that slipped to her waist was not the one she remembered, and she stiffened noticeably. Glaring at the owner of the hand, she pulled back.

"Hello Char," Gyles greeted her, "I didn't think you'd mind a dance."

"Then you don't know me," Sarah said harshly.

"I'd like to get to," he suggested thinking his eyes would woe her and soften her anger. His hand reached for her again.

Sarah dodged the hand, "Back off Romeo," she snapped as she dodged. "I'm not interested."

Taken aback by the rejection, Gyles stared at the resistant maiden, "Char," he cooed gently, thinking he had not used enough charm.

"Is something wrong, Bebe," a masculine voice behind Sarah asked with an edginess that was palatable.

"No Beau," Sarah said with confidence that was alcohol induced. "I've got this handled." She turned her back on the shocked young Creole she began to dance once more, ignoring the man.

Gyles returned to the table, his twin was still seated. Taking his seat he looked at her with astonishment, "She rejected me," he muttered.

"She didn't," Jolene gasped.

"She did," Gyles repeated. "She rejected me." He tapped his fingers on the table, "This must be dealt with, and someone has to take that little piece of Northern work down a notch." He noticed the rowdy group on the outer deck, "I've an idea," he said standing up. "Stay here, out of the way. No matter what happens, you stay here until I come back for you." She nodded her consent, and Gyles moved toward the door. He recognized several of the frat boys as being young men from some of the more prominent families. He took a seat beside one and began to chat him up.

--

Long into the night, and several more dances, Hattie announced it was time to call it a day. Beau made no fuss, but ushered the girls toward the exit. Sarah was arm in arm with Hattie at the lead; Kristy and Lizzie were right behind them, with Beau taking up the rear. He had turned his head, catching a glimpse of the mysterious pair up in the dark corner. There was no way to mistake the figure, his Godfather stuck out even in a crowd. He was thinking about what he could do to tweak the old man when he felt the rush of cold air and something moist hitting him.

Hattie was soaked; Sarah's white top went transparent showing off the girls womanly assesses. Lizzie gasped as the water that was now dripping off the four of them had taken her breath away. Kristy cursed loudly as she shivered under the spray that had hit them full force.

Jareth seated where he was only caught sight of the residual water that came in and caught Beau as he turned back to his mother. "Dear God," Jareth said moving from the table toward them.

Artemis grabbed him back, "Sire, allow me…" he pushed forward, removing his jacket, he swiftly used it to cover the widow. "Who is responsible for this," he demanded.

Beau moved past Lizzie and Kristy to cover Sarah in his jacket, "You all heard the man, who did this?"

Two frat boys who had grins plastered to their faces were about to take credit when one of them saw the woman glaring at him. "Hattie… Hattie Channing-Bodine- Halifax- Mayfair- Larroquette - Devereux- Noel_- _Mason," he stammered. Suddenly all the frat boys froze, each one of them looked as if they wanted to crawl into the swamp and pray a gator would eat them.

Hattie looked at the young man who had used her name, "You," she hissed. "You be Blanche Abbot's boy… William!"

He dropped the end of the ice tub he was holding, fell to his knees and begged for mercy. "Miss Hattie, it was just a prank… harmless…."

"Does this look like it was harmless," Beau had his hands on Sarah's shoulders; she was clutching the coat to cover the exposed beasts under the wet shirt.

Having moved off to where he was less visible, Gyles grinned like a loon unaware of the stormy eyes that where glaring at him from within the shack. A hand went to the King's sleeve, Jareth turned to look at Papa Thibodeaux whose face was suggesting temperance on the part of the Goblin King. Jareth nodded.

Artemis turned to the widow, "Is there anything I can do for you, my dear?"

"Escort us to our yacht," Hattie said holding her head high. The crowd of frat boys parted like the red sea, she paused and glared at the boy she'd called William, "This insult will be addressed, boy!" She felt the fingers of the man escorting her tighten on her elbow, and accepted the warning that something more was amiss.

He nodded as he hung his head; he pulled back as the widow moved past him.

Beau grabbed Sarah with one arm, she seemed stunned and frozen. With the other arm he pulled Kristy and Lizzie to him. "Come ladies," he addressed the girls respectfully. "We are leaving."

Suddenly Sarah's head shot upright and flames showed in her eyes. She shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to its scandalized owner. Head held up and with more poise than a queen the dark haired, soaked girl squared her shoulders and marched past the dazed students. The young men of the rival frats stood with mouths gaping open as the raven haired nymph moved through their parted numbers. Someone in the group fell to his knees. Several of the young men, visibly shaken, watched in awe as the young woman refused to be humiliated.

Jareth, witnessing Sarah's refusal to be disgraced; whispered one word, "Norichace."

Papa Thibodeaux understood, it was a declaration of war, and he pitied the fool who had instigated the incident.

--

At the yacht, Artemis asked if he could call upon the widow to retrieve his jacket when it was of no more use to her. Hattie watched as Sarah boarded the ship, she smiled at the scholar. "Tell my friend that he has chosen well," she whispered. Than for the hearing of those nearby she said aloud, "Monsieur LeClaire, you are welcome in my home anytime." The overwhelmed with joy scholar bent over her hand and then helped her to board the ship as well.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17.**_

Jingle and Polygala, hidden aboard the yacht were astounded when the very wet women came aboard. Jingle turned to Poly to whispered, "Could it have rained there and not here?"

Polygala shook her head no, "That's not rain water I smell…" she made a face, "I smell beer and chemicals…"

"Someone doused them on purpose," asked the goblin amazed. "Why?"

"Happens here every spring," grumbled the tiny garden sprite. "It's called Hazing."

"Why would they Haze miss Sarah?" Jingle asked trying to get her goblin mind to accept such a concept.

Polygala shrugged, "She must have been in the right place at the wrong time, or vise versa."

Hattie moved to where Sarah stood like an Amazon, "Child, are you alright?" Her voice was soft, and the Creole accent caressed her words comfortingly.

Sarah hissed, "I'm not going to let a bunch of punk frat boys humiliate me! I never have, and never will."

Seeing the resolve, Kristy came to Sarah's side, "You tell em sister," she affirmed.

Lizzie, now just a furious joined her room mates. "United we stand," she boasted.

Beau looked at his mother, "I guess they showed those idiots what real ladies are made of," he bragged singing the praises of his cousin and her friends. "Although I wonder what you are going to do about the Abbot boy?" he asked his mother quietly.

"On that I will have to ruminate," Hattie admitted. "Perhaps just his thinking of what I could do might be enough to sober him up."

"During Spring break," Beau didn't sound convinced, he moved to the steering wheel and stated the engine of his yacht. "Should be an interesting next few days… wish I could be here to see the rest of this."

--

Jareth, carrying brandy snifters in both hands came to join Artemis on the dock once the Bodine yacht had pulled away from the mooring. Extending the scholar his libation, he took a sip off his own. Visibly angered, the learned scholar accepted the drink, he sipped deeply before asking, "Sire, do you know who did this?" Jareth nodded, however he said no more on the subject. Unable to let it lie, Artemis blurted out, "That someone could do something so vile to a lady of that caliper..." the vein in the neck of the goblin scholar was pulsating, showing just how angry he was.

The Goblin King placed his free hand on the shoulder of the scholar to silence him. He was listening to something in the air. His face was serious, and he was once more all business. He drew Artemis into the shadows, shadows that gladly accepted them. Shadows that embraced them as comforting as a mother's embrace. A moment later a dark pair of twins came down the long wooden pier. The hand of the King warned the goblin scholar to keep still, to listen along with him to the conversation.

"I congratulate you," Jolene praised her brother. "You certainly dampened that quail's party." Maliciously the dark Creole girl had enjoyed the spiteful tact her brother had taken. "I only regret I was not close enough to enjoy the moment of impact."

"She didn't break," complained the dark Creole man. "If anything she was haughtier, that one has a proud streak that goes very deep." He neared his ship, "Perhaps we need to use other means to humiliate and humble the little quail."

The malevolent Creole femme-fatale paused; her snakelike eyes searched the darkness of the night. "Do you smell that," she asked as something on the air hit her like a brick wall, she tried in vain to seek out with her eyes the scent her nose had picked up. "That spice…" She seemed fretful suddenly. "Gyles, we must away," she urged as she moved swiftly to board the Sea-Spider. "Quickly!~"

Not aware of the dangers, but knowing better than to argue with the intuitions of his sister, Gyles gunned the engine and speed away. Jareth stepped out of the shadows, followed by the somber scholar. Goblin eyes watched from the darkness. "Keep watch on them," ordered their King and dark shapes moved like quicksilver over the waters of the bayou.

--

Sarah was silent all the way back to the house, at the car the widow's driver gave blankets to each of the victims of the prank gone amiss. Huddled in the back of the long limo, the four women each kept their own peace. Beau felt rage, and planned on seeking help from the only person he knew could help. He blamed his own foolish folly for the humiliating incident. Had he not been trying to play foolish games, he told himself, he'd have been aware of the plot. He chided himself for having taken his eyes off Sarah even briefly on the dance-floor. Once home Hattie ushered her girls into the house to order hot baths for all, she gave Beau a nod of approval and excused him. Heading back out, this time in his own vehicle, the young Creole prayed his Godfather would be in a receptive mood.

--

Jareth was seated on the back veranda of his gracious plantation home; little lanterns gave off soft light and filled the space with peaceful energies. He had time to cope with the anger, and to cool off, and think things out calmly. He heard the approach of his Godson long before the young man had driven into the long drive. "Leave us," he ordered the scholar who bowed and grabbed the arm of the gnomish Hoggle to direct him into the house. Goblins who had been seated about the veranda scattered, some went off to the wooded area, others to the field, and still others ran aimlessly into the bayou. Seated in the fan backed rattan chair, the King sat in contemplation. "Beau," he said sensing the young man was no within hearing of his voice.

Remorseful and penitent Beau moved closer, "Tonton," the younger man's voice was quiet and reflective. "I beg your forgiveness~ I have imprudently exposed my mother and her guests to dangers."

Looking at his Godson with stormy eyes, the Goblin King shook his head, "Do you think I speak only to hear the sound of my own voice?"

Not giving in to the urge to challenge the statement, Beau answered respectfully. "Tonton, I admit, I was foolish… I saw a chance to pull your chain… I never meant to put my mother or the young ladies into harm's way. I~ didn't think."

The grimace on the King's face lightened slightly, enough that the young man could see that he was not in danger of being dipped into a certain bog. "Beau, Hattie is one of my dearest friend, as was your father… and being your Godparent, I tend to over look when you behave like a… mundane…" the boy winced at the word, and the King continued. "Your house has been under observation..."

"I saw one of your little spies," Beau admitted bitterly thinking Jareth was speaking of the goblin presence. "She called me a peacock!"

"I was not referring to my guard Jingle, she is there for Sarah benifit," Jareth said getting the young man's complete attention, seeing curiosity in his Godson's eyes he acknowledged the threat, "Norichace."

"Should I postpone the business trip I was supposed to take," the young Creole asked swiftly, guardedly. "I can remain in residence."

Jareth mulled over the thought, "No," he said calmly. "What is about to happen will happen…whither you are here or not," motioning the younger man closer, he said, "I have my suspicions as to why Sarah is the one they singled out. You're postponing business will not be necessary."

"I feel incompetent," Beau complained. "I didn't mean to put the girls in danger."

"I'm sure it was not your intent," Jareth agreed, "However, when you return to your mother's house; tell her that her old friend is taking steps to protect her and her guests."

"Will you forgive me my mistake," Beau requested quietly.

"Youth," consoled his Godfather, "Is often foolhardy."

"Experienced," teased the boy sensing that things were once more at peace between them.

"In spades," retorted the Goblin King. "However," he cautioned. "I will not tolerate anyone, including you toying with the affections of the Lady Sarah."

Beau accepted the warning, "I bid you farewell then my Tonton."

--

Warmed by the bath, and feeling less violated Sarah stood at her window looking at the night. Lizzie warped in her comfortable thick terry robe came up behind her and placed her arms about the girl she had deep sisterly feelings for. "They were just a bunch of stupid frat boys," she murmured, wanting to take the sting out of the memory for Sarah.

"We were set up," Sarah whispered back, knowing Kristy was in the bath still. "Someone put them up to that stupid stunt on purpose." She looked at her roommate; "Someone who wished to humiliate me, Liz. I was the target, you and Kristy and Hattie got caught in the crossfire."

The earnest tone took Liz Braden by surprise, "Who," she asked. "Who could you have pissed off enough to do something so… juvenile?"

"Remember when we went to the French Market yesterday," Sarah asked, thinking out loud, and coming to the only conclusions she could. "I think it was that man I ran into there. The one I said was not my type when Beau asked what he looked like… he was at the Bistro… tried to make advances… I rejected him, rather strongly…"

"You think he set us up," Liz asked gruffly. "We should warn Kristy."

"Warn Kristy of what," the youngest of them entered drying her hair in a towel.

"Sarah thinks we were set up," Liz stated.

When Kristy looked at Sarah, she calmly acknowledged her suspicions. "That young man from the market, that…Gyles person…. What was his last name," Sarah closed her eyes and thought hard, bringing back the memory of the previous day. "Norichace…" she said as her eyes opened with the conviction she was right.

Color drained from Kristy's flushed face, "Gyles Norichace?" she grabbed for Sarah's hand. "He said his name was Norichace; tell me what he looked like…"

"I told you yesterday," Sarah complained.

"I wasn't paying attention," Kristy said firmly, "I was living in the moment."

Liz huffed, "Weren't we all?" Her arms crossed her chest akimbo; pursing her lips she too encouraged Sarah to recall the description of the man. "Think kiddo, what did the creep look like?"

Sarah took a seat on her bed, "He was just sort of disturbing, tall with dark hair and eyes… and sort of swami. Acting like he expected me to fall into his arms…" Sarah crossed her arms. "He was not my type."

"Sounds like Gyles Norichace," gossiped the native to the Crescent City. "Norichace are new money, and spoiled rotten… our family will have nothing to do with any of them… most of the better families scorn them." She continued to dry her hair. "You say he was at Papa's?"

"He had the nerve to put his hand on my waist, expecting me to just fall into his arms and dance with him…." the Raven haired girl grumbled, "As if!" The feeling of her personal space having been violated returned, and she shuddered.

Liz, now seated with Sarah on the bed, frowned deeply. "I should have kept a better eye on you, but I was having too much fun…" she lamented.

"It's not your fault," Sarah countered. "It's no one's fault but that jerks. We were all having fun! No one else on that crowded dance floor even touched us; everyone else respected our personal space! No one else took such liberties," Sarah took hold of her roommate's hand and held it tightly, conveying her feelings of sisterhood to her. "I don't hold you responsible for this. We're on vacation, and he should have respected my privacy! When a lady says no, it means no," she looked over at Kristy, "He is certainly no gentleman."

Kristy tossed her towel back to the bath area. "We tell Aunt Hattie in the morning, she can make sure that beast does not ruin the rest of our stay." She held out a hand to the two who piled their hands on top of the extended hand. "And if he's imprudent enough to try to take you on, he'll have three of us to deal with."

"All for one," Lizzie proclaimed enthusiastically.

"And one for all," Sarah agreed.

--

Jingle and Polygala settled in on the pediment, discussing the overheard conversation. "I'm sure the King will not allow harm to befall this house," Jingle assured the sprite with convictions. "Otherwise he would have sent one of the other goblins to watch Sarah."

"I'll take your word for it," Poly said snuggling in for the night. She yawned widely. "You're the first Goblin I've ever really met."

--

Jareth was walking along in the misty bayou, ruminating on how best to protect the girl who was only slightly aware he was there. While he would enjoy keeping the games up, it was out of the question now that Sarah was in danger. However he had to be prudent, and keep his distance. His thoughts took him back to his own kingdom and the moments that Sarah had spent there.

"King got a lot on his mind," a voice asked.

Looking down, Jareth noted that Squee was strolling along side him, still dressed in his ragged Mardi Gras costume. "I do," he admitted.

Feeling a need beyond his own, Squee held out a willow reed rope to the King, "Want to ride a gator, it'll take your mind off your troubles." He offered hopefully.

Touched by the little creatures devotions, Jareth gave Squee a wistful grin, "Thank you Squee, but no…" he took a deep breath, "I think I need to keep my mind on my troubles for now."

Down cast at not being able to help, the little goblin sniffled, "Just trying to help."

"I know," Jareth assured him, "And I do appreciate it," he sighed.

The little goblin looked at the bayou, "I miss home," he whispered.

"So do I," agreed the Goblin King. "So do I."

--

Artemis sat on the veranda with Hoggle for company, "Sir Didymus should be able to get out of bed tomorrow," he assured the dwarf. "He's very lucky to be of good goblin stock."

"Bah," the dwarf replied however there was relief in his big watery eyes. "He's just lucky he has a hard head!"

The scholar nodded, knowing the dwarf was not given to shows of emotion. He looked out toward where the King had been walking alone, "Is that Squee with the King?"

"Little fool," complained the dwarf. "He thinks he's some kind of alligator jockey now."

Artemis allowed him-self to snort at the thought, "Pity the alligators."

"Oh I do," agreed Hoggle, but his attention was on the King. "He seems vexed," he observed.

"There was an attack on Sarah and her friends this evening," Artemis admitted perplexed as to what to do.

"An attack on Sarah," Hoggle became agitated. "And what's he doing about it?" he demanded harshly. "Just thinking?" He stormed at the thought of anyone trying to hurt his little missy. "You tell me who it was and I'll fix their little red wagons!"

"Hoggle," a voice disarmed the dwarf's bluster. Jareth was now only a few yards away. "Don't think I haven't contemplated those actions myself."

The little man turned to the King, face pinched up in anger and violent thoughts, his hand shot out accusingly. "Contemplation is not doing!" His voice shook with the force of the fury he was experiencing. "I'd do more than contemplate were I in your shoes…"

Jareth, surprised by the imprudent show of anger from the dwarf, questioned warningly, "Really, and just what would you do in my shoes?"

Moving forward, Hoggle growled, "I'd protect Sarah at all costs…"

"Of course you would," Jareth agreed with a wistful smile, "However you are not the one she rejected, now are you?" codes of honor and rule of law held the king to a standard that the dwarf was not subject to. "There is only so much I can do," he stated. "I sent Jingle to keep a watchful eye on Sarah; for now that will have to do."

"A watchful eye will not help if there's an attack on the little missy," complained the bitter dwarf. "But if you sent me…"

"If I sent you, Sarah would know for sure I'm here," warned the King. "No, we have to play our cards close to our vests."

"Cards," gulped the angry dwarf. "Who's talking about cards?"

"It's a metaphor," the Scholar said calmingly. "Sire, do you have a plan in mind?"

"One is forming," Jareth stated reluctantly. "And Hoggle here is right, there needs to be more than just a watchful eye on our Sarah." He moved to his fan backed chair, took his seat and contemplated his options. "Garden sprites, gnomes and one lone goblin are not enough."

"I could go to the garden," offered Hoggle.

"You'd be far too tempted to make contact," Jareth accused.

"As if you've not be tempted," responded the Scholar. "What has this game of hide and seek been about?"

"I am tempted by Sarah," Jareth admitted. "I've been since I first saw her." He smiled thinking of the beautiful girl who played in the park with only her dog for a companion. "I don't blame anyone for being tempted by her…"

"She gets under ones skin," Hoggle stated as he sat on the floor of the veranda.

"Doesn't she," Jareth murmured.

Artemis thoughtfully sighed, "The women of this side of the mists are…unique."

Hoggle raised a brow, but it was Jareth who spoke, "Yes, most unique." He felt the pain of Sarah's vacating his kingdom once more. "Little wonder we are drawn to them like moths to a flame."

"That don't help the matter at hand," Hoggle complained. "We got to protect Missy!"

"With more than Fae magic or ethereal beings," cautioned the scholar. "Perhaps we need to call in re-enforcements from this side of the mists. You said the magic community here in New Orleans owes certain obligations to your throne."

"Yes," Jareth agreed, "And perhaps it's time to call in a few favors."

--

Sarah sat in the dark, her roommates having drifted off to sleep. However Sarah was far too keyed up to sleep. The incident at the Bistro was stuck in her mind, and didn't seem to be able to resolve itself. It was more than just the feeling of Norichace having taken liberties; it was more than the violation of personal space. It went far beyond what she'd admitted to her friends. Sarah had done everything in her power to never put herself in a position where she'd be called upon to dance with a partner. For several years now she'd excused herself from proms, and socials, she didn't even attend wedding receptions. Anywhere she'd be called upon to dance with a partner, she had kept far away from. Sitting in the dark, and breathing in the strange New Orleans air, Sarah finally admitted to herself why.

No one would ever be able to make her feel the way he did. Him, the one perfect partner she'd experienced in that oh so brief moment of unguardedness by both of them. He had let his guard down, and was not taunting. She had seen him, not the façade he showed to the court, and his goblins. But him, the man, the inner being~ Sarah knew the loneliness, the isolation and the torment in his soul, for it matched her own. His hand had gone to her waist, and she moved into his arms, as if she'd always belonged there. As they moved across the floor, in the midst of the reveling courtiers, he had sung to her. However it was the moving, the dancing, and the measured and countered measured steps they took in unison that she was reflecting on. From that moment forward she'd guarded herself, refusing to accept just any partner. For no mere mortal man could take the place of the man with stormy eyes.

"Jareth," she said aloud.

--

Seated alone on the veranda, everyone else having retired for the night, Jareth was acutely aware of his name being spoken. "Sarah, you precious thing," he whispered, sending his thoughts of protection to the girl who had just spoken his name. He stood up, and fought the urge to fly to her side. "Rest, dear heart," he said to the wind. "Sleep…"

--

Heaviness took her eyelids, and Sarah fell back to the pillow. She was not sure but she thought she heard a voice making a promise to her; 'When the world falls down,' repeated over and over in her mind. Dreamless sleep allowed her to rest.

--

Hattie dressed in her long china red silk dressing gown smiled as her girls joined her for breakfast. "Feeling more rested," she asked lightly.

"We need to tell you something," Kristy said taking a seat at the breakfast table.

"I need to," Sarah interrupted the younger girl. "That prank last night, I think I know who put those frats up to it… a young man named Gyles Norichace. I refused his advances, and I believe he was the one who instigated the incident."

Assessing the young woman speaking, the widow listened with a composed unruffled poise. "I see," she said in a monotone.

Sarah's eyelids lowered, veiling her eyes; "I apologies to you, for having cause you to be treated so poorly."

"Char," the widow's voice softened and was comforting. "I do not blame you."

"Kristy told us," Lizzie added carefully, "That the Norichace family is persona non grata here about."

"True," Beau said entering the breakfast room, and having come in on the tail end of the conversation. "They are not old N`Orleans, and they resent that they are kept out of important dictions by major players here. As if their money was enough to guarantee them entry into the Communion," taking his seat the widow's son addressed the women. "What brings them up?"

"Gyles Norichace took~ liberties last night," Sarah said in a voice that was tight and heated, she was still angry. "He thought that I should fall under his thrall…"

The statement was most telling, and Beau could see that it had no meaning to Kristy or Lizzie; he saw that his mother however did understand. "He plays fast and lose," warned the man gently. "He is not a member of the New Orleans believers."

"Well he has it in his head that he's some kind of man of importance," Sarah stated openly. "For some reason he sees me as some kind of conquest." She looked at her roommates, and spoke for all three of them. "We've decided we are not going to allow him to ruin our stay here."

Beau looked at the three young women, and mused, "I see, and just what did you three plan to do to thwart him?"

"We're going to go on with the planned outings and functions!" Kristy announced. "No Nevo Riche usurper is going to stand between us and the city!" She slapped the beads in her hand down on the table. "I'll go to Dr. John myself for juju!"

Hattie chuckled softly, "Indeed," she snorted.

Lizzie slapped her beads to the table as well. "She won't be going alone," she insisted.

Sarah lifted a hand holding her set of beads, and Beau's eyes widened. "I thought you didn't believe in voodoo, Char."

"Let's just say it was not the sort of magic I was well acquainted with…" Sarah suggested softly. "I never said I didn't believe in magic."

Hattie smiled at the three girls, "Beads and gris gris are all good and well…" she cautioned. "However, you may need something more powerful."

"Maman is right," Beau added, "And at the end of the week, I have to leave….I won't be here to protect you."

Sarah smiled at the mother and son, "Well, I'm not trying to brag, but I think now that I know who my opponent is, I can be more aggressive in my own protection."

"Really," Hattie mused playfully. "Ever take on anything like this before?"

Kristy giggled, "Oh frat boys and players can't stand against Sarah."

Lizzie nodded, "Sarah's an Amazon. She could take on an army of monsters and leave them wishing they'd picked on someone else." She smiled softly. "But this time she's got help."

Beau, still concerned sighed. "Just promise me that you three will stick together."

"Thick and thin," Kristy promised, and then as breakfast was served said, "So what's on today's agenda?"

--

Jolene paced the dark room where she performed rituals. Whatever had come to the city was beyond her powers. She could not get a clear picture, in anger she raged against her tools of divination. Her dark spirits had deserted her, even the loa was not answering. Enraged and maddened beyond her senses, the dark girl sent icons and tools crashing to the walls, before she collapsed in tears to the floor.

Gyles hearing the commotion entered to find his sister wailing. Scooping her into his arms he tried to sooth her.

Jolene looked at him in desperation, "They won't answer," she moaned. "Even the Loa won't answer. We have been deserted."

"We must make the sacrifice to renew our dedication," Gyles assured her with a confidence she didn't feel. "I shall be the most powerful man in New Orleans, and you shall be my queen…."

Weeping into his shoulder she whimpered. "I pray you are right, Gyles." Her voice wavered. "I've never been without the loa before… and I cannot exist without it… I need the powers…"

"I know sister," he kissed her gently, comforting the girl. "I know, and you will have it all back once the sacrifice is made." He tipped her face up to his, "We don't need voodoo powers to discredit an ordinary girl, now do we?"

--

"Ordinary girl," a voice in the shadows mocked, unheard the peals of laughter filled the darkness. The laughter caused ripples in the fabric of magic, ripples the touched members of the Communion of Magix in the old city. Dark eyes looked up; stormy blue ones did as well. And in a house that was faded rouge, the reigning queen of the sorciere and N`Orleans Wischard watched the not so ordinary girl in her care.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18.**_

__Jareth found Artemis and Hoggle both on the veranda when he appeared for breakfast. "How's Sir Didymus this morning," he inquired.

"Feeling much better," announced the little goblin knight as he ambled forward. "And ready for service, if it pleases you Sire."

Jareth breathed a sigh of relief, "You've no idea of how much it gladdens me to see you up and about again." He motioned the knight back to his place so he could eat his breakfast. "I will be calling upon you to do me a great service, quite soon." Turning to Hoggle the King added, "You're going to be needed as well."

"You're going to let us go and actively protect Sarah," asked the gnomish dwarf.

"No," Jareth said shaking his head, "It's too risky," he held up his hand, preventing protests. "For now I need you both to sharpen the wit and arms of our guards here." He looked over at his scholar. "I've sent out an invitation to the heads of the Magical Communion here, I've called for an emergency session."

Approval shone in the eyes of the Scholar. "Bravo."

"Bout time," grumbled the gardener.

Sir Didymus didn't answer; he was too busy watching Squee, still dressed in his mangled costume heading for the bayou. "What _**is**_ he _**doing**_," he asked aloud.

"Come on," huffed Hoggle as he struggled off the chair. "That idiot is going to disturb the alligators again. You might as well witness this." He motioned the curious and yet reluctant knight to follow him. "You have to see it to believe it."

Artemis looked at the King, "Are you having your session here?"

"No," Jareth stated calmly, "There's a place in the city that is neutral ground for all who are in the Communion. I've already set it up, sent the summons and have set the agenda." Turning reflective the King looked to his scholar. "I should like you to accompany me, keep notes and give me aide should I have need."

"Honored," Artemis bowed.

--

Breakfast was nearly over when the maid entered with a note for Hattie. The widow recognized the seal and pursed her lips as she opened the envelope. Beau also recognized the seal, "What is it mother," he asked.

"I've been summoned to a meeting," she said quietly.

"Do you have to go," Kristy asked, disappointed that her aunt would most likely not be able to join them for a day at the river market.

"I'm afraid so," Hattie answered without sounded upset. "This is very important and cannot be put off." She rose from the table, "However Beau will take you girls to the river market for the day. I'm sure you'll have a lovely time." She looked at her son, "You'll see to that won't you my dear?"

"Of course, Maman," Beau toasted her with what was left of his orange juice.

"I will see you all for dinner," she promised as she exited the breakfast room hurriedly; "Until then Adieu." Once more as she rushed up the steps she looked at the summons. "Minette!" she called to her maid, "My green Givenchy, and hurry…"

Beau looked at his watch, "Ladies, I suggest we get moving. The Market is very busy and gets very crowded. There are several wonderful shops on the river walk, and there'll be musicians giving a free concert…." He looked back to the stairs his mother had rushed up, wondering what the summons was about. Knowing she'd asked for her green Givenchy meant one thing, the summons had to do with the business of the Communion, the magical Communion.

--

Mama Tessa held a hand up to the boy who had rushed in from the street, he halted in his steps. No one was to disturb the woman when she was studying entrails, and that included her children and grand children. Divination took a great deal of focus, and single-mindedness. What she was seeing cause her boundless trepidation. Once she'd seen all that the viscera was able to show her she looked up at the little boy holding the envelope in his trembling hands. "No need to tell me," she said to the child in a soothing voice. "I already know." She moved to the hook by the back door where she kept her shawl. "The Communion is convening."

"You didn't even look at the note," the child said in awe of his grandmother. He looked over at the chicken gizzards on the table. "What did the innards tell you, Granny?"

"Enough to know that trouble be coming," she touched the boy's chin, "Tell your mama I went out."

--

John LaFayette had awoken from a fearful dream, move vivid than any he'd ever experienced. He rose from his bed, bathed and dressed and put on the amulets that were warranted. He was on his way out the door when the messenger arrived with the summons. Swiftly, wordlessly, he took the envelope and continued on his way, urgently.

--

Dada Angelo came out of the curio shop with a frown creasing his broad black face. He too was acutely aware of the troubling disturbance in the balance of magic. Someone had done something that was boarding on insane. Someone had taken steps to release dark spirits who would only be happy if they could devour every living thing it their path. None of the local Duiens were fool enough to toy with the darker spirits. This was something that had to do with more than just a play for power.

Dada had seen many things happen in his city. He knew the wild side of New Orleans, and the thrill seekers left over from Marti Gras, he knew the college students who grew restless with the coming of spring. This was different; this was something that was thirsting after blood… This was something that had not been in his city for nearly one hundred years. He knew the history, both sides of it. He moved swiftly, without delay straight away. The Communion was going to have to act, just as it had so long ago.

--

Gyles Norichace stood on his terrace, sipping his morning coffee. He put out of his mind the unpleasant occurrence of earlier this morning. He had known disappointments before, and Jolene not being able to get a bead on the influence that had come to the city was of little relevance to him. He pitied the needs of his sister, so dependent upon the constant stimulus and encouragement of the loa. He had long ago moved beyond their sway, and knowing that even some of the darker spirits of the loa feared him gave him a feeling of power. It was the power that fed him, gave him more strength and availed him the ability to move far beyond what his sister called a comfort zone. After what he'd done before dawn, the members of the Communion would fear him now as well.

Taking his eyes off the city, he looked to where his sister was huddled trying to make sense of what had happened and why she'd been deserted by the spirits she was bound to. He pitied her, poor creature, but even in pity he would not be swayed. His will was all that mattered, and power, he more than wanted it, he needed it. He had fed off the energies of hundreds, perhaps thousands in the last few years. His goal would not be stymied by the mere fact that his sister was weak. He looked back at the city, just awakening. Soon, he told himself, he'd be the most powerful force this city had ever seen… and then he would avenge the wrongs done to his family. He vowed that those who were responsible would be made to pay.

"Gyles," Jolene uttered the whispered name, from tortured lips. "What are you thinking? Your aura has just gone black as night."

Turning once more toward her, he gave her a comforting and wistful smile. "I was thinking of all that _**we**_ will accomplish, sister." Reaching out a hand to her, he pulled her out of her huddle and toward him. "Take some of my strength, little one." He encouraged. "I have more than enough for both of us."

The dark vixen placed her face into his shoulder. "I'm afraid, Gyles," she confessed as she shuddered. "The spirits of the loa have never deserted me," his strength moved into her, and the quaking ceased. "There is something not of this world moving against us."

"It is too late," he assured her as he allowed her to feed off the energies he'd stolen. "By the octave of Easter the sacrifice will be made, and I shall be the most powerful man in all of N`Orleans!"

Jolene looked up at her brother, eyes glassy from the energies he was sharing with her. "You will bring the city to its knees."

"Indeed." Gyles nodded, "And whatever it is that has come to the city cannot stop me…"

"Us," she corrected feeling the strength flow and her powers return; "Us!"

--

Hattie arrived at the sanctuary, the holiest ground in N`Orleans, to find several of the others standing outside with horrified faces. She walked up to Dada Angelo, "What has happened?"

He turned to the sorceress and N`Orleans Wischard leader, "Sacrilege," he said in a voice that was shaken to its core. "They have defiled and desecrated holy ground…"

Mama Tessa had arrived and seeing the gathered leaders outside the building that was accepted as neutral, she stayed back. From her vantage point she could see darkness engulfing the once proclaimed Sanctuary. In her hands were strings of Orisha beads, intertwined as she used them all. Under her breath she began to utter chants to protect her and her followers from the desecrations. She was the first one to see the police car that was coming toward them with sirens blasting. Because she was not on the same side of the street as the others she went unnoticed. She turned found a follower at her elbow. "Spread the word," she uttered darkly. "We go to the bayou, we go back underground."

"Where you go now, Mama?" he asked fearfully.

"To gather my children, the city not safe for us now," she pulled her shawl tighter. "Go warn the extended family…" She moved like the wind back the way she'd come. If someone were brazen enough to attack sanctuary, they would not hesitate to attack the homes of the Communion leaders as well.

Sheriff Daniels was seated in the passenger's seat of the squad car. His face was grim and yet held the hint of a smirk. His dark glasses hid the gleam of elation from the eyes watching him step from the car to the sidewalk. "Well, well," he gloated. "What have we here?"

Hattie narrowed her gaze down her nose, not to be bullied by the likes of this outsider. "You tell me," she snapped. "I've only just arrived."

Dada Angelo pointed to the door, "None of us have ventured past that…"

Daniels smirk and elation vanished quickly as he looked to where the old man was pointing. "Dear God," he gasped. Even he, who had wanted to see the Communion dismantled, had not wished for anything of the magnitude of which he was now witness.

John LaFayette looked at the scandalized and appalled lawman with disdain. "Surely you know the history of this place," he spoke with authority. "This is more than just holy ground, Sheriff Daniels… This was Sanctuary!"

Stricken and unable to speak the man moved to the curb and lost the contents of his stomach. Just as the limo carrying Jareth and Artemis pulled up. Hattie moved to the car and held up her hand, making a sign she knew would be corrected interrupted by the passenger. A moment later the limo pulled away. Hattie looked with sudden pity on the lawman that was retching. "We leave this to you," she said quietly. "We do not wish to interfere with your investigation." She turned to John and Angelo, and motioned them to follow her. "Tessa will have gone to the bayou and with her the congregation that follows her teaching." She motioned the men to her car. "We three will have to go to _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation; it is the one place that they cannot touch."

"It is not neutral," complained Angelo softly. "Nevertheless as you say, Madame Hattie… it is untouchable."

Hattie looked one last time at the building that had been sanctuary to all practitioners who wished to discuss anything with another. "Once they've investigated, we must salt this place."

"No Hattie," John disagreed. "_**WE**_ must never set foot there again, don't even look back." He hooked his arm gently into hers, "Neither we, nor our followers, nor our descendants shall ever touch that building again."

--

Sheriff Daniels had seen some sick things; he'd seen the worst things he thought that humans could do. To each other and to the living things that surrounded them; however this… this was beyond even him. He looked at the driver of the squad car, "Call Pere Jacques'…." He said before retching once more. The image of the carcass that had been nailed to the door of the Sanctuary building would remain with him for a very long time to come. Whatever it was, it had suffered horribly. The stench of death and decay caused the law man to continue retching.

--

Goblins gathered at the gate of the plantation, as if they had been called forth. A great howling had risen, and they were unable to cease. Artemis looked from the gathered lower beings to his King. Jareth sat with a face that was a mask of rage, and leapt from the car before it had halted to join with his lower subject in the death howl.

Hoggle stood back, observing. When Artemis joined him on the side of the driveway, the dwarf's large eyes were hooded, "Do they know what it was," he asked Artemis.

"No," the Scholar whispered solemnly, "They only know that the Sanctuary House was desecrated, and defiled."

Hoggle watched the King, "He either knows who did this, or he suspects."

Fully agreeing with the gnomish little man, Artemis sighed. "I don't think this was part of his plan."

"Never is," Hoggle huffed. "He should be use to this by now, but he's not."

"Use to this," questioned the scholar.

Hoggle turned, and began to walk away from the drive, heading toward the bayou. "He knows both sides of the magical community." Hoggle looked over his shoulder one last time. "He should have known this was bound to happen. Some mortal got power happy, and decided to play with dark magic."

Artemis looked back at where the king now stood surrounded by mourning goblins. He too felt pity, and anger, and a deep sense of loss.

--

Sarah handed one more of her purchases to Beau who put it in the large tote bag he was carrying. "Char, you planning on buying out the stock?" he teased.

Cocking her head to one side, she teased back; "Could be." She was about to turn when her face lost all color. Sarah began to tremble, her ears filled with a mournful wailing sound and she felt her knees buckle.

Beau saw the color drain from the pretty face, and rushed forward, dropping the tote and grabbing Sarah before she folded. "Char!" he gasped.

A moment later Sarah looked up at him, confused and slightly embarrassed. "What happened?"

"You fainted," he said soothingly.

Lizzie and Kristy came rushing toward them, having seen Sarah collapse. "What happened," Lizzie demanded.

"Low blood sugar," Sarah laughed the incident off for the benefit of her friends. "I need a beignet…"

Beau admired the spunk and could see why it was she had attracted the attentions and desires of his Godfather. This was no ordinary girl; this was an extraordinary young woman. "I believe that there's a vender with fresh beignets just over there," he smiled thoughtfully; "I say we take a break from the shopping and have a nice little coffee break."

--

Hattie drove as both Dada and Dr. John declined, both felt safer on the road with Hattie behind the wheel. The twenty miles to the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation sped by. Skillfully she maneuvered her car until she was at the gates of the old and mysterious plantation's driveway. The gates opened, and she pulled into the tree lined drive. Neither she, nor her passengers, was troubled by the strange creatures that littered the lawn. She'd seen enough goblins in her lifetime, these were troublesome if provoked, but outside of that, they were harmless.

Jareth had set up a pavilion tent on the lawn away from the house and what influences it could have. He was seated in a fan backed chair, and leaning on a walking stick very troubled. He didn't look up as the others approached and took their seats as well. Once they were seated he turned to the three, "Mama Tessa will not be joining us," he said with confidence. "She and hers have fled into the bayou for safety reasons… and I concur."

"Char," Hattie whispered generously. "This was not your fault."

"I know," he said softly. Jareth's eyes were filled with trouble. "However had I not called for a conference…"

"It would have happened anyway," Dada Angelo assured him. "As it is, we can now keep our people from entering that… place."

"Because we saw firsthand," Dr. John stated firmly. "We will be able to spare others."

"Still," the troubled Goblin King sighed, "It would have been less trouble with the constable if I had not requested the meeting…"

"After what he saw," Hattie countered, "I think he'll be more inclined to listen to us instead of thinking we are troublesome superstitious fools." She crossed her arms looking like the physical image of the Goddess she served. "Daniels didn't think when accepting the office that he was going to be affected by the magical community. He thought he could work to eliminate us… perhaps Gyles Norichace did us a favor. Maybe now Daniels will understand the part we play in protecting our city."

"Perhaps," Jareth said introspectively. "I should like to think this was not going to work against you who have to be here all the time."

"Doing us a favor was the last thing on Gyles Norichace's mind," Dada Angelo scoffed.

Dr. John nodded, "This was meant to be a warning, that he intends to take over… and that there will be bloodletting." His face was grim. "I fear that your Sarah is his intended victim."

Without warning the Goblin King began to snicker and then to laugh outright, "One has to pity the fool…"

"Sarah is not a fool," Hattie said defensive and protective of the girl in her charge.

"No," Jareth agreed soberly. "But Gyles Norichace is if he is thinking of using Sarah Williams for a sacrifice." Jareth stood up with a knowing look in his eye. "Each of you must warn your followers that this outsider has bitten off more than he can chew."

Hattie looked at him, though veiled lashes. "And what do you intend to do Char?"

"I'm going to be keeping much closer to my Sarah…" Jareth said firmly.

"Your Sarah," taunted the sorceress.

"Indeed," Jareth placed his hands behind him, "Just don't anybody try and tell her that… God and Goddess know she's not ready to admit it."

Dada puffed out his cheeks, "And what of Gyles Norichace?"

Grimly the Goblin King addressed the problem, "We must give this one enough rope to hang himself."

"Sire," Dr. John was still troubled, "Why would an outsider like Gyles Norichace go after the Magical Communion of N`Orleans?"

"Gyles Norichace is not an outsider," Jareth said with conviction.

"If not," Hattie questioned, "Than what?"

Jareth's face darkened, "He has the smell of the Gedde about him."

"Impossible," argued Dada Angelo. "Gedde were dealt with, eliminated and eradicated over one hundred years ago."

"I'm not so sure they were eradicated," Jareth stated grimly. "I've a feeling that a few rats left the nest before they were rooted out."

"Gedde," Hattie said with disdain. "It would explain why they went after the Sanctuary house."

Dr. John frowned deeply. "Not only are we, the Communion of Magic, at risk…" he paused fearfully. "But the entire City…"

Nodding Jareth agreed, "Whatever their plans, we must fight as a united front. That is why Tessa took her followers into the bayou. She and her people will protect the hallowed waters. It is up to us to safeguard the land."

Hattie smiled wistfully. "You have a plan Char." It was not a question, but a statement

Jareth's features lost some of their softness, and the façade of humanity fell away. His Goblin and Fae side were clearly reflecting. "Indeed I do, my Lady…indeed I do…" Now his ruthless side showed. "You're not going to like it, Hattie." He stated.

The woman scowled, "You're going to use Sarah as bait."

"Yes," he said firmly.

"You're right Char," she glowered. "I don't like it." Both Dada and Dr. John stepped back, not wishing to be in the line of fire of either of these two. "I don't like it one bit."

Jareth stood straight, and seemed more imposing than ever. "Don't defy me, Hattie."

Her scowl deepened and her face went stony. "I will not defy you, but I don't have to like this…plan."

"I'm not happy with it either, however…" Jareth spread his hands. "We must work with what we have on hand. Gyles Norichace is a Gedde, of that I'm sure… and the one thing the Gedde men had a weakness for was power. He thinks he can hunt down Sarah… and break her before he sacrifices her…" Jareth placed his hand on the back of the chair he was now standing behind. "Well we are going to let him think he's doing just that… we are going to let him think he's isolating her and pulling her away from your protection."

"Is that prudent," questioned Dr. John.

"No," Jareth said firmly. "However it is necessary." He looked at Hattie, "Don't worry Char," his voice was soothing once more. "I have a very good goblin watching her, and one of your garden sprites as well…Sarah is never alone."

"What good will a goblin and a sprite do," Hattie asked still vexed. "Have you any idea of what he did to her dignity already?" She remembered the cold water, and Sarah being exposed.

"Sarah is much stronger than you or he could ever know," Jareth said with pride. "She's the only person to ever reach the center of the Labyrinth… she's the only person to ever win back a wished away child… and she's the only woman on either side of the mists to steal my heart." A haughty smirk haunted the generous lips of the Goblin King. "Besides, Sarah has a secret weapon…"

"What weapon," Hattie demanded.

"Sarah Williams has powers… a gift from her enamored King," Jareth chortled.

A commotion in the bayou silenced the discussion; Hattie stood up and looked toward the sound. "What is that," she asked.

"An annoyed alligator," a voice coming toward the meeting stated. Artemis bowed to Hattie. "I fear Squee has snuck off into the swamp again, Sire."

Jareth pinched his nose, "Next thing you know, the little bugger is going to ask to take one home to keep as a pet."

Hattie groaned, "What do I do about keeping my charges safe?"

"Nothing," suggested the King. "Let them live dangerously, Hattie… Let them be college students on break."

"Do you have any idea of what could happen," she demanded.

"Yes," Jareth admitted. "I'm risking far more here than you are," he assured her. "I'm risking my Queen."

"This is not a chess game," warned the sorceress.

"But Hattie," the Goblin King argued back. "That's precisely what this is."

--

Once back at the mansion the girls put their purchases away, and enjoyed the comforts of the garden. Seated on the back patio, and sipping tea, they discussed plans for the evening. It was decided that after dinner they would go to the French Quarter and do a bit of clubbing. Beau was called back into the house by a maid alerting him that he was needed on the phone. When he returned he didn't look happy. "I'm going to have to leave earlier than I had planned." He said taking his seat once more. "There's an emergency in London I have to deal with."

"OH Beau, that's too bad," Sarah lamented placing her hand over his on the table. "When do you have to leave?"

"Within the hour," he said sadly. "I won't even be able to have dinner with you."

"How long will you be gone," Kristy whispered.

"At least into the middle of next week," Beau replied. "I'm sorry about not being able to take you girls out…"

"Not to worry," Lizzie assured him, "We can entertain ourselves."

--

Hattie arrived home and refreshed herself for dinner, taking her seat she frowned, "Where is Beau?"

Kristy took her seat at the table, "Business called him away, he flew to London an hour ago."

"London," questioned the widow. Sarah and Lizzie both took seats at the table as well. Hattie looked at the three girls, fighting the urge to lock them in the room upstairs until the break was over and they were safely on their way back north. She had heard the plans of the Goblin King, and much as she disliked it, she knew it was the only way. "Have you girls got plans for the evening," she asked trying to sound as if everything were normal.

"We're going to the Quarter clubbing," Kristy said with a smile, "And we'll be taking a taxi so you don't have to worry about us driving."

"I would be happy to have my driver at your disposal," Hattie suggested, knowing she was about to be turned down.

"No thanks," Kristy said a bit too quickly.

'The ball is in your court now, Jareth,' Hattie thought to herself. 'I hope and pray you know what you are doing.'


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19.**_

__Jingle turned to Polygala and whispered, "What's the Quarter?"

"The area of town with clubs and music and wild carryings on," replied the little garden sprite.

"Have you been there?" Jingle looked at the little ethereal creature with an expression of understanding.

"No," admitted the garden sprite. "Until you came into my life, I've never ventured out of the garden."

Sympathetic and more considerately Jingle shrugged, "Wild carryings on in the human world can't compare to the stuff the goblins do…"

"You are so lucky," Polygala whined, "To have been able to have lived so freely!" Pointing down at the garden, she continued. "I've had to live a regimented life, and I'm not even able to do what I want in the garden. Do this, Polly! Do that…. And never once did I get to have any fun or go adventuring!"

Shaking her head, Jingle gave a skeptical look to her new friend, "You sure you don't have some goblin heritage?"

Polygala at first looked scandalized, then a broad smile replaced the expression of shock, "Wouldn't that be exciting?" Both creatures began to giggle.

--

Gyles looked at the potions he'd amassed, everything from sleeping draughts to poisons. All distilled from the exotic plants grown on his terrace. His hand instinctually moved to the tray that held the mind altering potions; tonics that would render a victim unable to resist a completely uninhibitated display of sordid behavior. He had used many a tincher such as these, was aware of how much to use for the exact outcome he needed and wanted. He had used the distilled essences of such herbs as valerian and belladonna, apple blossom and sweet pea; he'd even experimented with a mixture of pansy and tuberose. All had given excellent results. This time he wanted something more powerful, something that would render the sacrifice susceptible to suggestions without seeming drugged.

Gyles moved away from his collection of essences', to the drying racks heavy with herbs and barks and seed pods. His sister watched from the only entrance to this room off the terrace, filled with exotic herbs and potions. Her face was contorted as she asked. "What is it you seek?"

"Something that will not be detected until it's too late," he answered as he moved his hand over the dry herbs. "Something that won't leave an aftertaste," he mused.

"Hemp milk," Jolene suggested with arms crossed and her face stony.

Gyles paused, dropped his hand from the stack of dried herbs and turned to stare at her, "That's brilliant," he whispered, awed that she'd come up with the perfect answer. "Now all we have to do is get her to drink something that we can mix Hemp milk into."

"It's not as hard as you think," Jolene moved away and back out onto the terrace. "Simply send a pina colda over to her table," she took a seat in one of the loungers with a grim expression on her face. "That is if you intend to go through with the plan."

Disturbed by her sudden lack of confidence in him, Gyles probed deeper. "If I intend?" his voice was edged with harshness. "I have every intention of proceeding, sister dear."

Dark lashes veiled her eyes as she looked up at him, "We don't have the protection of our Loa any longer, Gyles. They are gone," her voice was lifeless and expressionless as well. "Going on with this plan, means we act alone."

"Once we've made the sacrifice," he assured her; "The Loa will return, and bend to our will, not us to theirs."

Mouth set in a thin, grim line, the girl shook her head, "I'm not so sure." She admitted quietly.

Anger coursed in his veins, Gyles was use to being obeyed and without question. "I will be the most powerful Voodouin the city has ever seen… and we will at long last avenge our line!" He sat on the same lounger as his sister, held out his hand to her and awaited her submission. When her hand went into his, he closed his fingers about hers. "We have money, we have status, and we will have respect… Once more Jolene, we will walk proudly, and we will reveal that the Gedde didn't die out… We will take back the lands that belonged to us… and we will see those who destroyed our forbearer brought down!"

"I too took the vow," she assured her brother, "I have not forgotten," she promised. "However, I've walked without my loa…."

"Loa cannot walk where we must tread now," he offered suggesting a compromise, and tightened his hold on her slender hand. "Are you with me, sister?"

Stonily she looked into his eyes, "Always."

--

Hattie felt a cold hand grip her heart and she quaked within. "Something wicked this way…" she didn't finish the quote. She knew the girls were upstairs getting ready for their evening in the French Quarter, and much as she wanted to discourage them she knew she had to let them go. Quietly she moved out of the house to the veranda, "Little goblin," she whispered knowing that the creature would hear her. "Keep a watchful eye… the Gedde is moving against our girl this evening."

Jingle hearing the warning turned to Polygala; the little Sprite was gearing up for battle. "We will be able to follow them," she promised. "I have a bit of goblin magic, old old magic, and I can use it to go where ever Miss Sarah goes."

"What do we do once we are there, where ever there is?" Polygala questioned.

The goblin looked at the sprite and shrugged.

--

Sarah chose her evening wear with the same attention to detail that she always used. Having a mother who was an actress meant that she was more aware of color and style than most of the girls she knew back home. It also meant that she could hold her own with the likes of Lizzie and Kristy. More often than not and tonight was no exception she went by the rule of less being more. She held the accessories down to a simple necklace and a pair of ear studs. She looked over at her friends who were also going for a minimal look. "A goose just walked across my grave," she whispered.

Lizzie nodded, "Mine too."

Kristy frowned, "Mine must be late…"

Turning to them, the girl from Nyack issued her most damaging statement. "I don't care what happens; I'm going to have a good time."

--

Gyles, standing before his mirror and using the sliver handled hair brushes he'd inherited, styled his hair carefully. He was handsome, and well aware of it. He was aware of his prowess and his effect on most women. Having been snubbed by the chosen sacrifice irked him. How dare that little nothing, that nobody, that child of a cheap actress, rebuke and reject him? Once her blood was split, and the bargain with the dark spirits complete, Gyles intended to remove the last vestige of virtue from the girl personally. He would watch her dying eyes become aware as he robbed her of her morality and integrity, and then he would let her body rot in the bayou. A smile of satisfaction curled his lip cruelly.

His private line rang, and he tossed the brushes to the top of his dresser. Casually, like a great cat, he strolled over and picked up the receiver. "Yes," he said by way of greeting.

"French Quarter," the voice on the other end rasped. "We are following them."

"Don't lose them, I want to know exactly which club," Gyles warned coldly before he hung up. "Jolene," he called out, "Do you have the hemp milk ready to go?"

"It's keeping cool in the ice chest," she assured him as she entered his room. "Does this meet with your approval?" She pirouetted so he could see the low keyed dress in its entirety.

Gyles nodded, "Most appropriate, understated and yet with you wearing it still alluring."

Jolene eyed his garments with admiration, "If only other men could be so… masculine and powerful," she lamented.

Teasingly he eyed her. "Would you leave me?"

Thrilling at the attention, she shivered, "Never."

--

The club was full, every college co-ed within a sixty mile radius and then some had heard that there was going to be a ball bustin' band performing. When the girls arrived the room was already starting to fill, they found a table that put them close to the dance floor and ordered their first rounds of drinks.

Gyles strolled into the club with his sister on his arm; they were led to a corner table on the upper level where they could observe the entire room. Quietly Gyles watched Sarah and her friends. "We will be separating her from them," he promised his sister, who seemed perturbed by something.

"Gyles," she warned, "There is something~ unearthly here." Her pretty eyes darted about, looking for the cause of her unrest.

Cupping her chin in one hand he hushed her. "It matters not," he said firmly. "I've chosen, and what I want, I get."

--

Jingle and Polygala hid themselves in the dark shadows that gathered at the catwalk of the club. There among the light canisters, and wires they found a place to be watch over Sarah without being observed or exposed. When Jareth arrived with Artemis in tow, Jingle pointed him out to Polygala. The Garden Sprite gasped upon looking at the Goblin King.

"That's the Goblin King," she inquired in a breathy tone, "He's … he's… beautiful!"

"He's a Fae born," Jingle said with conviction, and a hint of reverence. "He's a Royal Fae." She admired her King more and more. While all the goblins as a rule were devoted to him, she found that it was more than him just being their king. She understood Jareth perhaps better than others. She appreciated that he was a good and just king as far as his goblin subjects were concerned, that was to be expected. However he was also a protective guardian over the helpless wished away children, often finding them homes among Fae families. Only as a last resort were children turned; only those whose spirit and body could not be mended by other means became changeling goblins. Jingle had seen how careful he was with these fragile souls, and she admired his vigilant judicious supervision and guardianship over them. For Jingle, Jareth was not just beautiful to look at; he was beautiful from deep within. OH she was aware that her King could be wicked, and mischievous~ even impish upon occasion. But she also knew that he had a good heart.

Jareth seemed to sense where Jingle was, he looked upward and smiled a crypt smile before turning his attentions to locating Sarah. Artemis didn't seem comfortable in the club at all. The loud noise, what others were calling music, disturbed him and he seemed only too ready to bolt. Jareth on the other hand, having spent hours in the presences of howling goblins, was unaffected by the noise. He saw his Sarah, and smiled wistfully to himself. She was growing into a beautiful woman, and he couldn't help but take a bit of pleasure and a moment of pride in how she was turning out. He knew that she'd be very angry if she ever knew that he took credit for some of her growth.

Tiny hairs at the back of Sarah's neck stood, and she placed a hand to the back of her head. 'Odd,' she thought, 'Reminds me of…' she halted the thought, as if allowing it would only cause the appearance of things and beings she really didn't want to allow.

"This is great!" Kristy exclaimed brightly. "This band is killer!" she shouted over the din.

Lizzie nodded enthusiastically, "Better than some of the clubs in New York!"

Sarah sipped her drink before answering, "Good crowd too, lively."

Taking a long look at the tall glass in front of the dark haired girl, Lizzie observed, "Go easy on those Hurricanes, Sarah."

"I'm only having the one," promised the girl who was smiling and feeling the effects of the potent drink. "I'm more interested in dancing than getting pie-eyed!" She stood up, and headed to the dance floor.

"Where's she going," Kristy asked suddenly surprised by the exit.

Lizzie laughed, "To dance."

"By herself?" exclaimed the girl with reddish hair.

Nodding Lizzie smiled, "That's our Sarah; she waits for no one."

Sarah moved the open space on the floor, there among others who were writhing and wiggling and giggling. Closing her eyes she allowed the music to take possession of her soul, totally unaware of a set of mismatched storm at sea eyes that were focused upon her every move. Jareth felt the breath catch in his throat. He had thought he had experienced every emotion and sensation that life had to offer, that was until Sarah entered his life. Never before or since, had he experienced anything like the range of feelings and sensations that Sarah could cause him to feel. He watched her, longingly, having held her in his arms and having danced with her body close to his once. Watching her now, a more mature and womanly Sarah to be sure, only fired the desire to swoop down upon her and whisk her off to his castle.

Artemis observed the change in the King, and mused, "So this is what a Fae in love looks like."

"Shut up," Jareth said without taking his eyes off the woman on the dance floor. He didn't sound perturbed or even irked. He was smiling, and his voice reflected the pleasure he was experiencing watching his Sarah.

Unable to allow it to pass, the Scholar quipped. "I thought I'd seen it all." His voice dropped an octave, "But this is… unique."

"She's incredible," whispered Jareth. "No ordinary girl, my Sarah." Long lashes hooded his eyes as his lids narrowed to slits. "By the Gods she will make an incredible Queen," he growled deeply in his throat.

"Should I get a hose," offered the delighted Scholar with humor.

Feeling the flush come to his cheeks Jareth cleared his throat; "Not necessary, but thank you for the concern, Artemis." Without taking his eyes off the erotic movements of his intended, Jareth raised his drink and sipped.

--

Gyles had left his sister sitting alone; he knew none of the regulars here would be stupid enough to disturb her. Most of the tourist tried to be close to the dance floor, and the locals would keep to themselves. The lights on the dance floor cast shadows on the people moving from level to level. He approached the long bar, seeking the one bartender here who was beholding to him. He spotted Davis at the end of the bar, mixing drinks. "Davis," he said darkly to the back that was turned to him, he watched as the spine stiffened.

Davis Porter was a tall thin man of little consequence, with an appetite for things that were too expensive for his pocketbook. He often bartered his talents to gain the items he wanted. It was bartering that had put him into debt with Gyles in the first place. He looked over his shoulder, long flaxen hair shadowing his features, "Norichace," he whispered in as respectful at tone as he would work up. He had reason to fear Gyles, and it was evident in his eyes, and his tone.

Gyles placed the vial with the hemp milk on the bar, and cupped his hand about it to keep it from being seen by others. "I want you to make a very special drink for a special lady."

Blue eyes darted about the club, "I could get fired for doing something like that," he warned.

Tilting his head, Gyles asked, "Is that my concern?"

Lips gone dry, and his throat burning, Davis shook his head, "No, sir."

"Something tropical I would think, perhaps a Pina Colda," his long elegant hand moved the vial forward. "And be liberal, I want her fully dosed."

"Who," Davis asked staring at the vial being pressed toward him.

Gyles looked over his shoulder at the dance floor, before he turned back to Davis, "The little vixen dancing on the floor by herself." His eyes darkened, "You know the one I mean."

Davis looked past the Voodouin, spotted Sarah, and nodded. "I see her," he assured his benefactor.

"Good, now be sure you use a good amount of the milk…. And cover it well with coconut milk." Gyles ordered.

Nodding, Davis reached forward, took the vial and felt a sharp pang of consciousness of what his actions were going to create. "This clears my slate," he growled.

"Of course," Gyles agreed knowing it would only be a matter of time before he'd come crawling back for another favor. He moved away from the bar, headed back toward the level he'd left.

--

Jingle felt a tingling, and an electric sensation as every hair on her head rose up. "Danger," she whispered.

Jareth heard and felt the same sensation, "Keep an eye on Sarah," he mouthed knowing only the goblin would hear. He turned his attention to where Norichace had moved to, and saw that the young woman with him was unsettled. He motioned Artemis to gaze in the direction across the way to where the brother and sister sat. "She seems unusually aware," he mumbled.

Artemis frowned, "There's something unearthly about that pair," he retorted. "Were the Gedde Fae touched, do you know?"

The frown that was on the Scholar's face now was mirrored by the Goblin King; "Not to my knowledge." He stated firmly. "I should say that no Seelie was involved with the Gedde… I have no way of knowing if they had an UnSeelie connection." Jareth looked at the brother and sister more deeply, trying to see that fragile manifestation that mortals with Fairy blood often took on. "It they are, the blood is tainted with other lines."

"I don't care for the manner in which that young buck is staring at Miss Sarah," Artemis grumbled.

"Neither do I," Jareth admitted watching the other male with little flames in his eyes. "Artemis, forgive me for leaving you here but I'm going to move closer to Sarah, just in case."

--

Davis finished with the blender, it wasn't unusual for him to make up one drink and rinse the blender out. No one suspected that he had used a questionable and illegal substance, and if he was careful no one would be the wiser. While it obviously didn't bother Norichace if Davis lost his job, it did disturb Davis. He didn't need this type of inconvenience right now, however he was only too happy to be free of Norichace's hold on him. So what if some little tourist was hassled by the Voodouin, she likely had it coming anyway he mused. After all look at how she was moving on the dance floor. He had made the drink as potent as he dared, and now he motioned to one of the other bar tenders, "Special order," he said as he moved out from behind the bar.

Sarah had left the dance floor flushed and steaming, she moved toward the table where both Lizzie and Kristy had been sitting, and their drinks still were. Both her friends had moved to the dance floor after being asked to dance, something Sarah didn't or couldn't wait for. As she reached for her unfinished drink a bartender approached.

"Miss," Davis addressed her with mock politeness, "A gentleman has sent this to you," he bowed and presented the prettily dressed up hemp milk laced drink.

"Really," Sarah giggle, "Who?"

"He prefers to remain anonymous," Davis grinned.

Warm from dancing, feeling carefree and unaware of several sets of eyes now actively upon her, Sarah reached for the drink, the cool beading of condensation dripped on her fingers. "Thank the gent for me," she said as she placed her lips on the straw and drew in a long sip. Her eyes widened at the sweetness and the tartness mixed in the drink. "Wow that's the best Pina Colda I've ever had," she announced before taking another long sip.

Davis snickered to himself before answering, "Thank you miss." Quickly he retreated to his station at the bar.

--

Jareth turned his head quickly, no longer interested in Norichace. The moment that Sarah had swallowed the tainted cocktail he was instantly aware of it. "Sarah," he said quietly as he moved from his table down toward the lower level and the dance floor. He blended in with the rest of the crowd moving about the club, as if playing hide and go seek. Sarah was nearly half way through the drink when the first dizzy wave hit, and Jareth felt it as well.

Norichace had found a group of young men, college students at the local university, and began chatting them up. He was familiar with a few of them, having aided them and was now willing to bait them. "Look at that," he said leaning back in his seat and eyeing Sarah with open lewdness.

One of the young men had seen Sarah on the night she'd been soaked at Papa's. "You think she's luscious now, Gyles you should have seen her a few nights ago… That bebe could win a wet tee shirt contest and then some…" he laughed bawdily.

"Look at them melons," moaned another of the young men.

"Udders," corrected a third. "And it's milkin' time!" he growled darkly before issuing a challenge to his companions. "Ten bucks and the next round says I can milk that heifer."

"No way," the first young man said slurring his words, having one too many beers in him. "She's outta your league."

A fourth looked at the girl sitting alone and mused, "I'll take that bet."

Gyles grinned, happily knowing he was stirring a hornets' nest. "I've twenty that says you can't get her to drop her top, Chandler." He waved the crisp bill in the air for all the young men to see.

Chandler leaned forward, "How far does she have to drop that top?"

Gyles smirked, "All the way, she needs to give the entire room a good look at those~ udders." He was amused, finding that he too was thrilling at the thought of seeing Sarah's bared breasts. "I'll give you fifty if you can get her to let you … milk her here, publicly."

"I'll take that bet," Chandler said before strutting off like a prized bull.

Gyles looked at the other young men, "No other takers?" he taunted. Four of the others followed Chandler.

--

Polygala grabbed Jingle's hand, "I now that smell," her words were urgent. "That's… the milk of the hemp plant." Jingle shrugged, not being familiar with the plant. The Garden Sprite looked at Sarah worriedly, "It's got an altering affect on humans!"

Jingle looked down at the room and saw the group of young men headed toward the girl who was blinking to focus her eyes. "Trouble," she said and looked for a dark place on the floor to reappear. Finding her opening, she grabbed the sprite's hand and down to the lower level they went using Goblin magic.

--

Sarah didn't see the young men approach, but she heard their voice in a distortion, and smelt them as they neared. They stank of too much beer and the fumes nearly gagged her. "God," she muttered, waving a hand to clear the air. "Don't you boys bath between drinking bouts?"

Chandler ignored the insult and growled back at her, "Hello mama," his eyes were focused on Sarah's top. He was trying to figure out the best way to rid her of it and win at least the twenty.

Friendliness was the last thing on Sarah's mind; she glared at the group and huffed. "Back off."

Norichace moved to where he could get a better view of what was about to happen when he spotted a local reporter and his photographer. "I'd have that camera ready," he told the pair, "There's about to be a titty flash…" he pointed down toward Sarah.

Chandler's hands were itchy, and he kept rubbing them on his slacks. "Be nice," he coaxed, "We just want to be friendly."

"Right," scoffed Sarah unimpressed.

The young men formed a half circle about Sarah's table, blocking her from the dance floor but not from being viewed. Chandler leaned over and looked at her with lusty eyes, "Baby thems the finest tits in the room," he crooned. "You can't blame us for wanting to get closer to em."

"Yeah baby," another young man joined in. "Great tits!"

"Show em," begged another.

"Pop em out for us baby!" another voice growled huskily.

Chandler reached out, his hand gripped Sarah's wrist and pulled her to her feet, nearly toppling her as he did. "Stand up and let them twins roam free," he urged.

Sarah pulled her hand back and tried to steady herself, "I said back off," her voice was shrill but almost unheard over the din of the music.

"Give us them tits," a voice from the group demanded.

"Me first," Chandler moved toward the girl. "Come on babe, give us a titty show!"

Dizzy, angry and fed up with drunken young bucks who could not hold a candle to a real man, Sarah growled, "Fine, you want to see tits, see tits!" She yanked at the pale peach colored tube top and freed her imprisoned boobs. "But a look is all you're ever going to get." She growled slightly aware of the sound of a camera shutter somewhere.

Before the top had lowered, a jacket came from behind, and was swept over the shoulders of the inebriated young woman. "Don't you young ruffians have better things to do?" an accented voice asked.

Chandler was about to protest when his eyes focused on the owner of the voice. "Monsieur Pommeroi," he gasped backing up and nearly falling over the young man behind him. Upon uttering the name the others seemed to sober considerably. Chandler no longer cared about the challenge, nor about getting any part of his body in connection with that of the dark haired vixen now draped in the jacket of the mysterious land owner. "She's just a tart," he said defensively.

"Says who?" Jareth challenged feeling Sarah going limp. He now covered her with his arms, possessive and protectively. "Was she asking for your attentions?" Sarah heard the voice, felt the breath as it passed her ear, and uttered a quiet little murmur almost a whimper. The Goblin King only tightened his hold of her slightly, "I'm sure your mother will be fascinated when I inform her of your antics," he addressed the ring leader of the group.

Chandler backed up even further, "I didn't lay a hand on her," he protested as he and his cohorts backed off quickly.

Sarah's head moved, rested for a moment on the shoulder behind her, "Is it you," she whispered with a near desperate sound in her throat, momentarily unaware of her state of undress.

Placing his lips closer to her ear, Jareth whispered back, "Pull up your top." The command was unsympathetic and abrasive as his fingers tightened their grip of her forearms.

"I'm going to be ill," Sarah moaned as she shimmed back into the tube top.

"No," commanded Jareth from behind her, "Don't you dare." Swiftly he spun her toward the open aisle and out of the club. At the curb he released her and she let the contents of her stomach empty out. Artemis joined them and waved the King off as he placed his own hands on the girl. Jareth heard the voices behind them, and knowing that the more sober Lizzie and Kristy would look after Sarah, he left, leaving his jacket over her.

When she'd finished retching, Sarah straightened up, looked with unfocused eyes at Artemis and whimpered. "I want to go home."

Norichace looked at the man with the camera, "Did you get it?" he asked with a smirk. Returning the smirk in kind, the man nodded, "Make sure it's in the morning paper… a nice headline would be pleasant." He walked away, and walked over to Chandler, handing him the twenty. "Who was that fool who interfered, acting like a knight in shining armor?"

"Monsieur Pommeroi," Chandler answered fearfully, looking to see if the other were coming after him.

"I see," Gyles muttered before moving back to the table where Jolene awaited him. "My dear," he addressed her holding a hand out for her to rise with. "Time we departed this droll scene."

"That man," Jolene began but was cut off by her brother.

"He's Monsieur Pommeroi," replied, "A temporary nuisance at best."

"He's not human," whispered the shaken Jolene.

Gyles, unaware of what it was his sister had uttered, was speaking over her. "Come the morning paper, I've no doubt that the girl's hostess will request her speedy exit." He laughed cruelly, "And come Saturday Sarah Williams will be persona non grata to the world… and the power of the dark loa will be mine."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20**_

Sarah awoke with the first light of dawn feeling sick to her stomach, rushed to the shared bathroom and retched again. Once she'd finished empting the meager contents of what was left in her stomach, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was slightly swollen, as if she'd had an allergic reaction to the contents of one of the drinks. Her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils were slightly dilated, her skin looked gray. Filling the sink, Sarah began to scrub her face, as if she could wash away the pallor.

The memory of last night was a blur, a sick and wretched blur. She vaguely remembered the drink, it had been so delicious, so cold and satisfying after dancing, and then everything was out of focus. The drink had been tainted, that much Sarah was sure of, because sober or even delightfully tipsy as Karen would say she would never have flashed her bosom at anyone! Shuddering at the memory of what she'd done so brazenly, she remembered the jacket that had been placed so gallantly over her. "Monsieur Pommeroi," she murmured as she dried her scrubbed face. "Who are you?" she wondered if her mind had been playing tricks on her. His voice had been so familiar, so… No it couldn't be; she told herself harshly. And yet, that scent, that spicy strange exotic scent that hung in the air. Only one other time in her life had she experienced that scent, and the recollection sent shivers down her spine.

Slowly, still feeling a little dizzy, a little sick to her stomach, Sarah re-entered the bedroom where her friends were still slumbering. Over the foot of her bed lay the jacket that had covered her exposed bosom. Her hand reached out tentatively, fearful of something jumping out from under the fabric. Nothing did, but the fear remained. At a snail's pace Sarah allowed her fingers to glance over the expensive cut fabric of the elegant suit jacket. Once she was certain that nothing was going to pounce out at her, she lifted it off the bed and drew it close to her face. Burying her face into the lining she drew a deep breath, needing to breath in the remains of the scent that clung to the jacket from its owner. A wistful smile played on her lips, if it wasn't him, it was someone like him. No one, one human could smell that… delightfully erotic and enticing.

Knowing her friends were likely to sleep in, Sarah gathered what she needed and returned to the bathroom. Once she'd showered and did her morning makeup she felt a bit more human. She dressed and headed down to see if the cook would give her a cup of coffee. She was surprised to find Hattie in the foyer with a paper in her hands and a frown on her lovely face. "Bad news?" she asked quietly as she descended the stair.

Hattie turned to look at Sarah, "I'm afraid so," she said with a grim expression on her face. "Sarah, there's a rather unflattering photo of you in the morning paper." She folded the paper and showed it to the girl had joined her.

Seeing the exposed outline of her shapely body, Sarah gasped in distress; "Oh Tante Hattie, I'm so sorry…" once more her stomach churned.

Hattie placed a hand under the girl's chin, "Who did this to you, my child?" She looked into the green eyes that should be sparkling like emeralds. Her voice was full of disdain but not for the girl, she was angry that someone had compromised her guest. "Tell me what happened, Char."

A sob came out before the rush of words, "I don't know… one moment I'm dancing and having the time of my life, the next I'm doing something so out of character for me!" she stared at the picture, it must have been snapped just the instant before the jacket had covered her. "Someone sent me a drink," she recalled, "A Pina Colda… and it was absolutely the most refreshing thing I'd ever drunk…. And then the next think I know," she closed her eyes, concentrating to bring forth the memory. "Some college boys surrounded me… demanding to see… and I felt irritated… angry… I pulled my tube top down…and I don't know why… I told them to back off and they wouldn't." She shook her head, making the image that was playing over and over disappear. "In the next instant I felt a jacket descend upon my shoulders and cover my… and a voice asking if the young ruffians didn't have something better to do…It was Monsieur Pommeroi," Sarah opened her eyes. "Tante, I'm sorry… I'd understand if you wanted me to leave."

"Char," Hattie sighed, "I'm not angry with you… I could never be angry with you." She pulled the shaken girl into her arms and gave her a comforting embrace. "I'm angry that someone in my city felt they had a right to compromise you." She felt the shudder of shame that ran rampant, "Char," she whispered softly. "I fear someone slipped you a Micky Finn…"

"Micky Finn…" Sarah repeated, "I think you're right, but why?"

"You've made an enemy, Char," Hattie stated in warning. "Come, you look like you need some dry toast and coffee." The hostess led the girl off to the breakfast room and ordered a light repast for them both.

--

Jareth found Artemis on the veranda arguing with Hoggle, a crumpled paper in the Scholar's hand. Without getting into the argument personally, Jareth removed the paper and looked at the crumpled image. "Oh dear," he muttered, "Poor Sarah."

Hoggle looked at him with seething hate burning in his eyes, "Is that all you have to say?"

Jareth, amused by the length and depth of Hoggle's devotion to Sarah, shrugged, "What would you have me say, Hogshead?" He tossed the paper on the table and crossed his arms as he gazed down at the dwarf with utter contempt.

"She's been…" Hoggle sought for words and found none.

"Compromised," suggested the King.

Thrusting a fist toward the king, the dwarf pointed at him as he sputtered. "You had a hand in this no doubt."

"No," Jareth sighed, "I didn't. However I didn't prevent it, either." He admitted without much emotion. "Some sacrifices must be made for the higher good…"

"Sacrifices," Hoggle sputtered, eyes popping. "I don't see your intimate parts being exposed, only hers!"

"Yes," Jareth sighed in agreement, "I fear the camera shutter is faster than the human eye. I assure you Hogsteeth, no man saw what they think they saw..." he moved to the table and took his seat in his fan back chair. "I placed my jacket over her, what Sarah has; her intimate charms are for my eyes alone, I assure you."

Hoggle's hand slammed down on the paper, "Seems everyone is getting a peep!"

Artemis sighed, "I'm afraid I have to agree with the gardener."

Jareth looked at the crumpled photo, "It's only an outline… I assure you, her actual fully exposed breast was never open to exposure."

Clearing his throat, the Scholar interjected, "The story in the paper is a bit racier than what actually happened."

"I'm sure it is, Norichace most likely had it planted as well as this disgraceful photo." Jareth stated calmly.

"Well what are you going to do about it," demanded the still fuming dwarf.

"Nothing," Jareth commented as he picked up his juice.

Hoggle growled as he repeated, "Nothing?"

"Tra la la la," mused the King as he sipped.

--

Norichace read the paper, and was not happy that the shot showed so little of the charms of the exposed girl. "Pitiful," he said darkly.

Jolene, huddled in her chair shook her head in frustration at her brother. "Have you not heard a word I've said?" she grumbled. "This Monsieur Pommeroi," she warned once more, "He's not human!"

"Nonsense," Gyles scoffed, "You're being overly sensitive." He tossed the paper aside.

Jolene glared at him, "Gyles, we've been abandoned by the Loa!" she growled, "But I'm not being silly… this man is not human… he's more… he's… I don't know what." Her eyes darted about wildly. "And he came to the rescue of the sacrifice, gallantly! He will interfere!"

"Society will be on my side," the Voodouin mused. "The girl will be ostracized, and tonight she will fall entirely from grace."

"You won't be able to use Hemp milk again," warned Jolene knowing he was going ahead with his plan. "She'll be watching for it."

"There are other means," mused the man with too much pleasure at the thought of what would push Sarah over the edge. "Not all are potions or tincher."

Jolene uncurled her body, placed her feet on the floor and stood up. "Gyles, this is the last time I'm going to ask you to give this up…we can find another sacrifice, another time."

Sharply the man answered, "This is my time, and Sarah Williams is the perfect sacrifice. How many untouched females do you really think there are? Her companions are not untouched… how long before she falls prey to the wiles of some lusty buck? No, Jolene," his hand slapped the table top. "The blood of this virgin is mine!"

Shuddering, Jolene whispered, "This Monsieur Pommeroi," her voice was a rasp. "He may have other ideas."

"He will not stand in my way," Gyles scoffed. "I'm sending a message to his estate; I will not tolerate interference, not even from one of the old families."

"What kind of message did you send?" fear filled Jolene. "Gyles, what have you done?"

The man closed his eyes, "What I did at the sanctuary was nothing compared to what I've sent as a gift to the Pommeroi estate." He laughed cruelly.

--

Anton heard the wail first; the morning post in his hands fell to the floor. He let it lay as he rushed out to the veranda. Jareth was standing up, hearing the wail coming from the edge of the swamp. Artemis also stared at the area where the sound was coming from. Anton whispered a prayer.

Jareth moved swiftly, as he did, his garments changed, from the elegant attire of a Southern Gent to that of the Goblin King. His hair went from the handsome coiffure to the wild tendrils that were one of the Goblin King's trademarks. As swiftly as he traveled, he didn't travel alone, goblins appeared from out of thin air, and they scurried along with their King. Into the swamp they moved with purpose.

Artemis stood beside Anton, he too prayed.

Jareth found the source of the wail; it was Tessa, and her followers. In her arms was the nearly lifeless crumpled remains of a tortured creature that had once been a child. She looked up at Jareth in desperation. "Goblin King, help…" She cradled the creature. "Before it's too late…"

Kneeling and examining what had once been a child, Jareth whispered, "It's too late to save it as human," he whispered. "I can turn this creature, but you have… to… offer it to me. I canna take what has not been offered…"

Tessa nodded swiftly, understanding, "Goblin King, I wish you to take this child…" she gently handed the body over, "This poor unwanted child."

Jareth's hands accepted what was left of the child, he breathed into its face, spoke words under his breath. Words he reserved for only the most desperate times, words that could never be reversed. The spell of making, "_**An'il nathrach**_**, **_**ortha bh'is bheatha**_**, **_**do thuar dhéanamh**_**'**" he muttered. Instantly the remains began to quiver as the life it had known was replaced by the life it would lead. Tessa watched what few had ever seen, human transform to goblin. The Goblin King looked at her, observing her reactions, and found them to be acceptable. "This one shall be mine now, for all time." He said quietly. "Before it forgets this life, I must question it." He eased the forming creature into his lap, "Tell me child, who are you and who did this to you?"

A croaky hoarse rasping sound came from between the lips on the forming goblin's face. "I was nothing," he muttered. "A nameless soul, who was born to be a service to the Voodouin called Norichace, it is by his will I was… sacrificed." Painful memories filled the little being. "It was he who had me mutilated, and cast into the swamp here… me not know why…" Goblin senses were filling in, and regular speech was becoming foreign to the newly born goblin.

"Norichace," spat the Voodoo Queen, "He is despicable!" she looked at what had been perhaps a five year old child, and was now a young goblin child. "That he could have so little concern for life… What Loa would protect him," she asked placing a hand to the new goblin's face. "What dark Loa?"

The little goblin looked at her, wondering why she was so sad. What pain he'd been in was now gone, like frost before sunrise. "Me not know," he answered thinking the question was posed for him.

Jareth looked at the goblins gathered about him, "Squee," he said gently, "Take this one to Nona, she'll foster him."

Squee sniffed, "Why me," he crossed his arms, the ragged remains of his costume still fluttering. "I not a messengerboy." He complained.

Jareth looked at the new goblin, "What was your mortal name, do you know?"

The newly born goblin shook his little head, "Not have name, none of the cattle do."

"Cattle," repeated Tessa looking at Jareth, "Norichace is raising a herd of nameless sacrificial souls."

The little goblin didn't understand why the lady was so upset, nor did he really care, he was taking great comfort in the embrace of his King. He looked up at Jareth, his eyes were still very human, and the King smiled down at him, "I'll call you Tipper…" he announced pleasantly.

"Tipper," complained Squee, "What kind of Goblin name is that?"

"A very fine one," warned the king. "Now take our little friend to Nona!"

Reluctantly Squee offered his hand to the tiny goblin. "Come on pipsqueak," He closed his fingers gently, not wanting anyone to know that he understood this little one was still fragile. "Make no trouble, and I'll teach you how to ride a gateor…."

Tessa stood up, "A heard of cattle, human cattle for sacrifice?" she placed a hand on Jareth's sleeve. "This one was meant as a warning to ward off Monsieur Pommeroi," her voice was quiet and angry. "Norichace does not know whom you are, my liege."

"For now," Jareth said placing his hand over hers, "We must keep it that way."

"He is expecting you to call the law," warned the Voodoo Queen. "And he is expecting that our local law man will make more trouble for you than help." She hesitated. "Your Sarah, she too is in danger."

Jareth sighed, "I'm aware," he assured her. "Tessa, have your people guard the swamp… watch for any other little gifts from Gyles Norichace. I don't think he's fool enough to send more, but one never knows, and it's best to be prepared. I will see to Tipper's conversion, and he will have no memory of the life as a human calf…." He sighed. "Make sure you secure the scared grounds… if I'm not mistaken that will be the next place Norichace will try to strike."

Hoggle had been observing, his weathered face showed the strain of holding back his emotions. Once the Voodoo Queen had moved toward the inner swamp once more he could hold it back no longer, "You used the charm of making," his voice shook with trepidation and apprehension. "It's been centuries since you've done that…" His watery eyes followed the path taken by Squee and the newly born goblin. "Sire, this is far more serious than you've let on…"

Jareth regarded the little gardener, "Hoggle, tell me again about what happened at the gate of the Labyrinth just before you arrived here."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 21**_

Hoggle's face paled with the thoughts of what had brought him to the portal, and the mortal realm. "It was like nothing I've experienced in or out of the Labyrinth," he commented in hushed tones. "Didymus and I were meeting for our weekly arranged dinner," he began thoughtfully. "I made him a stew, he likes stew you know~" the dwarf paused, "He found one of Sarah's hair clips near the junkyard and was bringing it to me." Hoggle stopped, looked up at the King and waited for a moment.

"Go on," Jareth said as he braced himself against one of the trees that darted his lawn.

Unsure, but seeing no way around it, Hoggle continued, "We both said how much we missed the little Miss," he confessed quietly, "Lamented that she's not spoken to us for some time."

"Is that odd," queried the King with a grim expression, unwilling to share his feelings about Sarah with the dwarf. For reasons that Jareth found unfathomable, he felt a slight, ever so slight bit of competitiveness with the dwarf where Sarah was concerned.

Now it was more than discomfort that Hoggle was experiencing. He swallowed the growing lump forming in his throat, "Yes," he said quietly.

Eyes narrowing, Jareth tapped his chin, knowing the motion gave the willies to the dwarf. "I see, I take it that you and Didymus have kept contact with Sarah… against my orders."

Hoggle shifted his feet, admission was treason; "Well…" he winced thinking of the consequences, "I wouldn't put it that way," he fell back into old patterns quickly.

Jareth resisted the urge to smirk at the little traitor, "No," he agreed, "Of course not, not after my warnings."

Hoggle shook like a leaf, remembering the last time the King had used words similar and in that same mocking tone, "It was at that moment something shifted in the fabric," he changed the subject effectively. "Something set Didymus off; he even showed his fangs… he never does that."

This information was more interesting to the King than discussing Hoggle's treason. "Didymus barred his fangs," he repeated thoughtfully. "Hoggle, think what did it feel like, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

Hoggle began to pace, talked quietly to himself, reliving those frantic moments before he and the King's knight headed to the secret passage. His hands moved in odd gestures to the dialog he was carrying on with himself. He seemed unaware of the King's thoughtful gaze, at once he stopped. Looked over at Jareth and gasped as if he could not breathe, "There was a smell… foul… not like the bog… but in some ways far more pungent and… frightening!" He began to pant as if still in the throes of being chased. "We took to the passage, and it should have placed us at the castle… the Labyrinth had other ideas, and sent us to you."

"She protects herself very effectively," the King commented. "Nothing not even I could penetrate her defenses."

"In the passage," Hoggle closed his eyes remembering more than he wished to; "That roar… I locked the latch," his eyes popped open. "I locked the latch! I know I did…" He was recounting the incident once more in his own mind.

"Something was in the passage with you," suggested the King. "That's why the Labyrinth sent you here instead of the castle." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Whatever it was must have been trapped in the passage."

"It didn't smell like the thing on the outside," Hoggle said, "But that roar, it was painful, and we started to run." He began to pace again, and go through the motions in his head. "The walls began to move back and forth. Swinging to and fro and we got pretty well battered about."

"That explains the injuries," Jareth agreed. "Whatever was in the passage was being kept from exiting with you; however she could not separate you from the thing preying upon you."

"You always refer to the Labyrinth as a she," commented the dwarf.

"I do," Jareth admitted freely. "If gender is something the Labyrinth can claim it would most assuredly be feminine." He motioned for the Scholar who was still waiting with Anton.

Artemis moved toward the King and the gardener, "Yes, Sire?"

Still resting against the tree the King commanded the dwarf. "Hoggle tell Artemis the details you recall."

Scratching his head, the dwarf complied, and the Scholar listened with his trained ears. Once the gardener finished his memory, the Scholar began to ask questions. "You're sure it was two separate entities?" When the gardener nodded, the Scholar gave rumination to the information at hand. "Sire," he asked suddenly. "Have Loa ever gone… between?"

Jareth was about to say no, but paused, "Once," he said thinking back nearly one hundred year to an incident he would have liked to have erased from his very long memory. He pushed away from the tree; "Sarah's not being used as bait by me… but for me." He commanded the gardener, "Hoggle round up the goblins, and prepare them for battle, Artemis come with me!"

Following the King as swiftly as he could, "Where are we going?"

"To warn Hattie," shouted the King, "Anton the car!"

--

Sarah sat on her bed, holding the jacket that had covered her last evening. It had been in her hands since her return to the bedroom, held on her lap. Now she lifted it slowly to her face and sniffed. A thrilling chill caused her to shiver deliciously, dangerous and bone chilling but deliciously. Her face softened as the image of a girl in a cotton candy confection of a gown danced in her mind. She remembered herself as a younger girl, in the arms of a man… He was handsome, attentive and his eyes so full of passion were upon her and only her.

The images of the Crystal Ballroom filled her mind; she remembered the others in the room. Lewd men, and bawdy women, garments on both that were more revealing than the skimpy bathing costumes her contemporaries wore to the beach. Eyes behind hideous masks, and voices that seemed to be everywhere and laughter that was hideous and vulgar. She'd been confused, but it had not prevented her from entering the open arms of the King, willingly. Sarah opened her eyes, not really wanting to face the truth, not just now. However she'd put off too many truths too long. It had taken her the better part of her eleven hour journey in the Labyrinth to face the fact that she didn't hate Toby, not really. It had taken her all that time to come to grips with the fact that all the faults she'd accused him of, just before wishing him away, she herself was guilty of.

Lifting the jacket once more to her nose, she drew in a deep breath of the scent that clung to the expensive fabric. "Jareth," she whispered the name she'd more often than not refused to say before she realized she's said it out loud. The scent was like nothing anyone who'd not known the Fae had ever experienced. It was spicy, hot, sweet, and intoxicating. Sarah was drawn deeper into the memory of the Crystal Ballroom, a memory that brought her pain and joy, in equal portions. Jareth had eluded her when she'd first entered the opulent surroundings, playing a wicked game of hide and seek it seemed. Instead of finding him right off, she'd been subjected to the leers and jeers of the masked occupants of the ball. Some had frightened her, others more or less made her feel soiled, and a bit cheep.

That feeling was not foreign to Sarah; she'd been made to feel sordid by the affair and abandonment of her mother. She remembered the pity that was followed by the comments that apples don't fall far from the tree. More than one young man in her class had made lewd suggestions to her, telling her that she was no better than her whore mother. She'd hardened herself to their jeers, and earned the title Ice Princess. The whispers and jeers in the ballroom had awakened all the feelings of inadequacy she'd felt after her mother had left. Sarah wondered why it was she blamed her father and not her mother. After all, hadn't Robert Williams stayed? Hadn't he raised her, given her a wonderful home life~ and even a new mother. Sarah opened her eyes and once more felt the rush of color to her cheeks that anger brought. All these years and she was still harboring resentment toward her father and Karen, when it was actually Linda who should be the recipient of these feelings. But no, she had held her mother and even Jeremy Eden on a pedestal… even now.

This time Sarah buried her face in the jacket and drew even more deeply the scent into her, closed her eyes and let the reminiscence of the Ballroom to fill her, and take control. It was time to confront her fears. The room around her began to swirl, and in her mouth there was the faint taste of peach… "Everything's… dancing," she muttered as she fell back on the bed, allowing the images to form fully. There were no crystal orbs floating in the air, not this time, this time it was Sarah controlling the images.

She was part of the images and yet apart, as if experiencing and observing at the same time. The part of her that was experiencing was that young girl; the part observing was as she was now, years older and yet just as innocent. The younger Sarah still seemed so impressed by the opulence of the ballroom, while the older Sarah was seeing it through fresh eyes, eyes that were not influenced by the romantic notions of a spoiled child on the threshold of womanhood. The Ballroom was magnificent, there was no taking that image away, but it was not sugar coated. There were dangers here that the younger Sarah was only mildly aware of. The older Sarah understood more of the nuances of what this place represented. It was more than just a beautiful ballroom spectacle, it harbored a dark secret. Sarah was now watching herself being led a merry chase by the Goblin King, but also she was more aware of the others who had filled that room. She had taken little notice of the men and women in the area away from the dance floor, or she'd told herself she had taken little notice. Now, as an older girl, a more sexually mature girl, she was only too aware of the goings on in that pleasure pit. Men and women were not just enjoying wine and refreshments, there were obvious acts of sexual behavior taking place that she'd ignored during her brief time in the Crystal room. Men and women, elegantly reclined, watched her with wicked eyes even as they copulated. The younger Sarah had seen, but had not understood, and so the images were buried deep in her sub-consciousness.

--

Jareth in the back of the limo seemed agitated, and suddenly closed his eyes, hissing, "Sarah." He tensed, and became oblivious to the surroundings of the Limo. He was drawn into the memory against his will.

_**His ballroom had known opulence. Between glittering cornices were hung many long chandeliers where the wax, dripping for a hundred years, had formed stalactites. The silk covering of the walls had faded and, in places, worn threadbare. Bubbles decorated the room, and the whole of it was contained within the iridescent skin of one great bubble. A tall, gilt, thirteen-hour clock stood in a corner. It was almost twelve o'clock.**_

_**Sarah's gown was silvery, the color of mother-of-pearl, with puffed short sleeves. She had a pearl necklace on, and her hair was braided with strings of pearls. Her eyes were wide. She was the picture of innocence in that setting, a picture that excited the dancers, who never took their masked eyes off her, while they moved with weary grace to the cadence of the sinisterly beautiful tune. She walked slowly around the room. Two gorgeously gowned women snickered behind their fans at her. Sarah paused beside a tall mirror and looked at her image. The dancers watched Her, from behind their masks. **_

_**The men sported silken shirts open to the waist and tight velvet breeches. Some of them wore wide-brimmed, plumed hats; others had capes or carried staffs. The women's gowns left their shoulders bare and dove low between their breasts. They had their hair coiffed high, and many wore long gloves. The dancers moved in a ring around the ballroom, with a kind of lethargic brilliance, as though the party had been going on all night. Men who were not dancing lounged indolently against the columns, or in a cushioned pit in the center of the ballroom, in the company of women. Maids and footmen, with skin the color of old parchment, served them trays of fruit and refilled their goblets from decanters. And always the dancers were watching through the eyeholes in their cruel half-masks, from which snouts projected and horns sprouted above. Moving together or elegantly reclined, they watched**_

_**Sarah, or watched each other watching, and beneath the masks the mouths smiled at each other like knives. The girl felt self conscious about her appearance and her presence in the room and seemed to be seeking someone, and moved past the haughty figures.**_

__Jareth became aware that he was observing the memory, and yet he was also participating. He caught a glimpse of the oddly older version of Sarah watching and taking in the images in a way the younger version moving among the guests had not. He squared his shoulders, drew in a deep fortifying breath and moved toward the other observer. "Sarah," he spoke her name much as he had from the first moment he'd addressed her in the nursery on that night, what had seemed a forever ago. Her name always came out sounding as if he were caressing it. Sarah looked at him, but didn't answer; swiftly she looked back at the place she was observing. Jareth calmly took his place at her side and watched as well.

_**People passing behind her, in the mirror, were watching her like ravishing birds of prey. Dancers swayed and swirled. Behind her she saw Jareth, standing alone. He was a resplendent figure, upright and blond, in a midnight blue frock coat, diamante at the neck, shoulders, and cuffs. Ruffs of pale gray silk at his throat and wrists set off the pallor of his skin. On his legs he was wearing black breeches and black, shiny boots. He was holding a horned mask on a stick, but he had lowered it now, to look straight at Sarah in the mirror. Behind him, dancers were whirling. She spun but it was too late, he was gone, vanished into thin air. Once more she walked slowly around the room, seeking but not finding.**_

_**She found herself looking into another of the tall mirrors around the room. Sarah saw something in the mirror that made her gasp. She had caught a glimpse of Jareth, entwined with a voluptuous woman dressed in shades of green and lavender, dancing past. She whirled around, but he had vanished. She stood there, peering through the throng for him so intently that she did not notice the young man leaning against the column beside her. He had his head held back and was staring brazenly at her. He relished her face, then her white shoulders, her breasts, hips, and legs, and moved closer to her. He murmured into her ear, "You are remarkably beautiful, my dear girl." **_

_**Sarah spun around to face him, her mouth open. At the mixture of surprise and pleasure on her face, the young man threw back his head and laughed. She smiled back at him nervously and moved on past this strange young man. Hidden behind another man's cape, Jareth had watched it all, but Sarah had not seen him watching. His eyes were following Sarah wherever she went in the corrupt ballroom. **_

__Jareth looked at Sarah; her mouth had dropped in surprise. Her eyes widened as she realized he'd been watching her the entire time she'd been looking for him. Turning, she shot him an accusatory glance, fire in the heart of her emerald eyes. It took her a moment to return her attention to the scene playing out from the inner depths of her mind.

_**She was tense now, self-conscious, among people she could not understand but who behaved as though they knew something that she didn't know. She moved hurriedly around the ballroom looking for Jareth. She did not know why she wanted to find him, or what she would say to him. She just knew that it was vitally important that she should find him. When she saw him, he was whispering something to his beautiful partner, who responded by smiling knowingly from beneath her mask and licking her lips, slowly, with the tip of her tongue. **_

_**Sarah blushed and turned away in embarrassment only for a moment, when she turned back Jareth held his hand out. **_

_**She had turned around, not expected that he would really be there. He was, and he was still holding out his hand to her. She took it, feeling dizzy, moving as if in a dream. Her dizziness ceased when she went spinning around the ballroom in Jareth's arms. She was the loveliest woman at the ball. She knew it, from the way in which Jareth was smiling down at her. All his attention was on her alone. The touch of his hands on her body was thrilling. To dance with him seemed the easiest and most natural motion. When he told her that she was beautiful, she felt confused. **_

Suddenly everyone, including the images of Sarah and Jareth froze. Even the sounds ceased, as Sarah turned her fury on Jareth. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I didn't," he stated coolly. "You brought me," he said crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"I don't mean now…" she blustered.

"Neither do I," he smirked unable to hold back.

Suspicious and not sure she could trust anything he had to say, Sarah cocked her head to one side; "Oh really?" She pointed down to the ballroom below them, "You're telling me this is not yours?"

"I never said it didn't belong to me," he teased saucily; "I said I didn't bring you here."

"But it is your Ballroom," she countered.

"One of them," he admitted with a wink.

Sarah growled under her breath, "Just how many of these… dens of iniquity do you possess?"

Taking exception to her statement he growled back, "Den of iniquity? What would you know about dens of iniquity?"

Placing her hands to her hips, and tapping her fingers rapidly, Sarah shot at him in an angry tone, "At that age nothing! Bringing me here was… unthinkable! This is no place for a child."

Staring at the pulse that was now visible in her trembling lips, Jareth murmured darkly, "I repeat, I didn't bring you here, you brought me." He fought the urge to reach forward, garb her and pull her into a toe curling kiss. "I merely sent you a little gift, a free be as it were…"

"Free be?" she questioned thinking back, and then gasped. "The orbs!"

Jareth smiled at her in such a simpering manner it caused her to back up a pace, "Ah you do remember." He teased none too gently. "I must say I was~ amused by the choice of location, and that you desired to have me take part in your little… pageant."

Stunned into silence, Sarah felt her lips tremble even as she tried to protest. Her hands slipped down from her waist to hang limp at her side. She turned to look at the decadent room, and its depraved occupants. "I brought us both here," she questioned.

Giving into the urges to touch her at long last, Jareth placed his hands on her shoulders, "Indeed you did."

Sarah made a strange strangled sound before turning to him, "I thought you~" he shook his head and she moaned softly. "You must think I'm some kind of…." The word was on her mind but she could not voice it. Once more her green eyes closed with pain.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said to ease her mind. "Look at me Sarah," he tipped her chin upward. "Look at me."

Sarah opened her eyes; he looked no different now than he had so long ago when he'd moved away from the Fae woman in his arms to dance with her. "I'm so embarrassed," she moaned.

"Don't be," he murmured as his hands cupped her face.

She looked at him, "It was you last night, wasn't it?"

He nodded with a wistful smile, "Of course."

"Why?" she asked softly.

Looking past her, he gazed at the handsome couple on the dance floor. "Because of what no one knew," he teased gently.

Sarah also looked at the couple, "I shouldn't have been here…" she placed one of her hands over one of his, "I was a child… I had no business… here."

"Something inside you pulled you here, and you pulled me into it as well," Jareth stated gently.

"You were going to kiss me, weren't you," she said trying to understand the moment she'd run from him.

"I would have," he agreed. "I still might."

Sarah turned to look up at him, "I don't think I'd run this time."

"There's no baby to save, this time." He said firmly, "Only the babe."

Breathily she whispered as she stared into stormy mismatched eyes, "What babe?"

From deep in the back of his throat he warbled, "The babe with the power."

--

A sudden jolt and Sarah sat up bolt right still clutching the jacket.

--

Jareth opened his eyes, now aware that the Scholar was trying to gain his attention. "I'm fine," he assured Artemis. "Driver, would you mind speeding it up a bit?" He winked at Artemis, "I've a date with destiny."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter 22**_

Lizzie was staring at Sarah, "Are you alright?" she repeated the words she'd said only a moment ago when the other girl sat straight up.

Dazed, Sarah turned to look at the blonde, "I'm… fine," she hugged the coat closer.

"It's not a shield you know," Lizzie teased as she moved to her own bed, a nail buffer in her hands. "I must say though he was gallant."

Nodding, Sarah smiled wistful, "That he is." She heard the words and could not believe her own ears, was she really complimenting the Goblin King? Sarah felt her cheeks warm with color as she thought of the personage she'd for years considered an antagonist. It was odd, but Sarah actually felt safer with the Goblin King than with the person who was causing her embarrassments galore. Holding the jacket seemed to give her a sense of security and wellbeing, and for now the pretty dark haired girl was reluctant to release it.

A maid tapped at the door, "Miss Williams, you've a caller."

A flood of color flushed over Sarah's pale cheeks, "I'll be right there," she promised before she rose and moved quickly to the mirror to check her appearance.

"Who would be calling for you," Lizzie asked skeptically.

"Monsieur Pommeroi," the dark haired girl answered swiftly as she swept from the room.

Kristy emerged from the bath and whispered, "Monsieur Pommeroi?" She looked over to Lizzie for confirmation, but only received a shrug. Tossing her hair over her shoulder she marched out to the hall to watch Sarah descend the stairs. Lizzie joined her, curious as to what was going to happen.

Sarah moved down the stairs, feeling like she was still in the dream. At the bottom of the stairs he waited, looking a bit more mundane than the way he'd looked in the Labyrinth. However the moment his eyes locked on her's she knew there was no mistaking him for anyone else. The stormy eyes of mismatched blue still held that same smug expression they had upon their first meeting. His lips curled ever so slightly into a smirk, and his head cocked to one side. Sarah felt her heart beat faster, and her breathe catch. Something in the back of her head told her to just toss the jacket and run back to the bedroom. But she could feel the other two girls watching her every move.

Jareth let his eyes move over her appreciatively, every inch of her. He felt the flair of his own nostril and didn't fight it. He patiently awaited her, watching and enjoying the graceful movements of his chosen Queen. He knew Artemis was standing behind him, watching his every move the way he was watching Sarah, and at the moment he couldn't have cared less. He had been stunned by how lithe and agile Sarah had been what seemed so long ago. Now, as a young woman, no longer a child, he was left breathless by her. Her movements were smooth, fluid, flowing and marked with stylish refinement. There was no mistaking that she was no ordinary girl.

Sarah held the jacket out, "Merci Monsieur Pommeroi," she said in a voice that was cultured and polished, even her infections were perfect as she enunciated the words.

With one hand Jareth retrieved his jacket, and with the other he cupped her chin, "_**de rien,"**_ He answered moving closer. His thumb began to trace her jaw line, his eyes never leaving hers. "We must speak, but not now."

"Yes," she agreed, "There is much we need to~ say." His touch felt right, familiar and safe. Oddly she was smiling, peacefully.

"Sarah," he sighed in a whispered breath, "I'm serious."

"So am I," she stated still smiling peacefully.

"Char, you are in danger," he urged her to sober up and take the threat seriously.

"Though dangers untold…" she reminded him teasingly.

Jareth, in spite of the considerable life-threatening circumstances of the situation had to smile as well. "You almost make me pity our… foe." He lowered he head, until his forehead touched hers gently. "I know that defiant look, all too well."

On the landing above the two girls, Sarah's friends and companions, watched in shocked awe as the girl they thought they knew seemed to be transformed. In the time they had known her, never once had Sarah had a really serious relationship with any male. Not that there were not young men, young swains as Kristy referred to them, vying for the girl's attention. Kristy had often teased Sarah that she could paper the walls with the love notes and still have enough left over to paper the hall outside their dorm room. Lizzie blinked several times, trying to come to grips with the vision of her friend and this stranger in so intimate and personal a pose.

Hattie entered the foyer, having been alerted to the presence of the gentleman and his request to see Sarah by her maid. Even Hattie seemed surprised by the intimacy on display, she cleared her throat to alert the pair that she was present. With amused eyes she watched as Jareth stepped back a pace, but kept his hand cupped to Sarah's chin. "Monsieur Pommeroi," she addressed him formally. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Is it," he asked coyly, before slowly turning his head to look at her. "Madame we have business to discuss." He looked back at Sarah, and flexed his hand, "Our discussion must wait, Char."

Sarah nodded and withdrew from his caressing hand, "Thank you again for coming to my rescue."

"Anytime, Char." He said before turning to move toward the owner of the house. "Hattie, there's more trouble than we were aware of…"

"More than just someone trying to turn New Orleans upside down?" she asked sarcastically.

"Far more," he snapped his fingers to Artemis to attend, "This conversation must be private," he warned aware of the stares from the two girls above.

Hattie looked to the landing; saw Lizzie and Kristy still watching Sarah who stood at the base of the stairs like a statue. "Yes, my library will be suitable," she intoned with a graceful sweep of her hand toward the room. "Minuet," she addressed one of her maids, "See to it that we are not disturbed."

Lizzie was the first to venture down the stairs, followed by Kristy hot on her heels. "Sarah, you know him?" she asked in a voice laced with shock and awe.

"Yes," Sarah admitted in a startled breath.

"From where," Kristy demanded. "You said you've never been here before."

"I didn't meet him here," Sarah explained without going into details.

Lizzie's eyes were now on the trio entering the library and the door shutting tight, "I wish I knew what that was all about," she confided.

"No you don't," Sarah advised as she placed a hand on Lizzie's wrist. "Believe me, there are some things best left unknown." Even Sarah was surprised at how mature and responsible the sage words sounded.

Lizzie, older, wiser and more experienced took a startled breath, "Sarah?"

"Come," the dark haired girl commanded her friends, "Upstairs, we should not be down here."

Kristy followed and once they entered the guest room they occupied let her thoughts spill out. "He called you Char," she gasped; "And in a very, very intimate manner."

"Yes Kristy," Sarah said flatly. "He did."

"Who is he," Lizzie demanded sharply. "And what is he to you?"

"He's many things, and I'm sure he goes by many names," Sarah confessed. "To me, he is Jareth…." She could see that the explanation was hardly enough for Lizzie and warned. "I'm going to tell you all about him… and me… but not right now." She looked with earnest eyes at her friends, "I'm asking you to trust me for now."

Taking a long and serious look at her friend, the older blonde nodded, "Alright Sarah, I'll trust you… for now."

Shivering with trepidation, Kristy nodded as well, "I too will place trust in you… but something is going on…I can feel it in my bones."

Sarah sat down on the bed she'd been using. "I know, I feel it too…"

Lizzie groaned, "I thought I was the only one with those inclining." She rubbed her pained forehead. "Daddy says I've a 'bit o the sight'."

"You cannot grow up in New Orleans and not recognize magic," Kristy lamented, "Most of the time I turn a blind eye, not wanting to get involved."

Sarah sighed deeply, "How long have you two known?"

"Known?" they repeated in unison.

Nodding Sarah continued, "Known that I'm not… ordinary?"

Lizzie laughed quietly, "From the start," she teased. "You stand out like a sore thumb, kiddo." She looked at the two younger girls, "I always figured it was fate that brought us together." Moving toward Sarah's bed, she took a seat beside her friend and roommate. "Thick and thin," she held out her pinky to Sarah.

"Thick and thin," Kristy chimed in placing her finger over Lizzie's.

Sarah looked at the offered gesture of friendship, and kinship; "Thick and thin," she repeated as she intertwined her finger with the other two. "Alright ladies, let's talk magic…"

--

Hattie settled into her chair as the gentlemen took seats, "You're taking a very dangerous chance coming here, Char." She addressed the King soberly.

"Loa have gone between," Jareth said without prelude.

Distressed by his words, the mistress of Magix Orleans stood up, "That's not possible," she stated firmly, her accent thickening. "The wards would not allow that to happen."

"The wards were not effective," the Goblin King stated firmly. "I assure you Hattie, Loa have gone between, and not just any Loa… Gedde Loa."

Pursing her lips tightly, Hattie considered the information; "And your kingdom?"

"The Labyrinth has her own safety measures," Jareth confided, "She is not of the fabric of the mundane world…she was born of Fairy Mists and Deeper Older Magic than the Loa. She forced the intruder out of her portal, but she remains in a state of lock down and will until the one who found a way to transcend the wards is taken care of."

"Gyles Norichace," she suggested. "Where would he get such… power?"

"He's been making human blood sacrifices," Jareth said coldly. "He's been accumulating power and property."

"That family," spat the widow violently. "They always were in league with dark things."

"Darker than we suspected," lamented the Goblin King. "Hattie, he tried to violate sacred hallowed swamp lands, he left a nameless child in the swamp off my property to die." When the woman's mouth dropped in horror he added, "I circumvented his efforts, and now have a newly born goblin."

Standing up, Hattie paced the floor in a troubled state, "Char, it's not just the violation of the hallowed swamp… it's the proximity to the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. This was an effort not just to ward you off but to discredit you." She tapped her fingers on her arms, "We must warn all the others of the communion."

"I've sent warnings to the others, I came to you because of Sarah," Jareth stated honestly. "Gyles does not know she is my beloved, he only knows she's~ innocent, unknowing and unknown."

"He's a fool," Hattie spat out once more. "So wrapped up in his own importance he does not see what is right in front of him."

"He's going to come after her, perhaps after all of you," Jareth's voice tightened. "You need to be prepared."

"We will not leave this house," the widow promised. "Nothing will touch the young ladies under my wings."

"Hattie," Jareth stood up, "I suspect that Gyles Norichace, or someone connected to him and his family had something to do with Jolie's untimely death." Swiftly he moved to the woman whose knees were buckling. "Hattie, I need you to be strong."

Pulling herself back together she nodded, "Beau," she whispered, "He was called away to London…"

"I've agents checking to see if it was pretext or real," Jareth assured her. "I will not allow anything to befall my godson."

"Merci," she placed her head toward his shoulder. "You have always been our friend."

"I would have stopped what happened to Jolie," he commiserated, "Had I known in time."

"I know that," she admitted. "Just as I know you'll move heaven and earth, and the very stars to protect Sarah."

"I offered to turn back time," he whispered in her ear, reminding her of their pledge.

Pulling back, once more composed, Hattie gave him a sad expression, "Playing with time is a dangerous game, Char… you've gotten burned doing that more than once."

"True," Jareth sighed. "Hattie, I have to warn you about Sarah… she has been known to think herself invincible."

"She sounds like you," Hattie mused.

Embarrassed and self-conscious Jareth nodded, "So I've noticed… we are well matched."

"Char," Hattie warned gently, "Fate may have plans… and no matter how much we fight it, we will have to play out her game."

"I don't mind playing, as long as I win, and I don't forfeit my Queen," Jareth admitted quietly. "I've already moved the stars once for Sarah; I'm more than willing to do it again."

Artemis, who'd been listening quietly, interjected soberly. "You may well have to."

Hattie gave the scholar a wistful smile, "You're friend is right Char, you may well have to."

Moving toward the widow, Artemis studied her face, "Madam, I should dearly like to speak to you on many a subject once things are settled."

"I should enjoy that," Hattie said with a flirtatious tone. She looked at Jareth, "If Gyles is going to make a move, and it will be in the next twenty four hours… he will have to move before the octave has ended."

"Tessa and her followers are already in the swamp to protect the hallowed grounds;" Jareth said calmly, "John and Papa are awaiting my signal."

"This time, Jareth King of the Goblins, this time make sure you finish the job…." Hattie's voice turned stony. "We cannot afford to be lenient; we must end the threat of the Gedde once and for all."

Solemnly the Goblin King nodded, "I take my leave," he moved toward the door.

"Will you be saying goodbye to Sarah," Hattie asked cautiously.

"No," Jareth said with a upward glance to the ceiling, "I believe my Queen is amassing her own forces right now, and I will not disturb her."

"Gods speed," Hattie said following the King and Scholar out of the library.

Jareth stopped, looked at Hattie and bowed, "Stay safe, Char."

"You too," she said quietly.

Artemis moved forward, and boldly took the hand of the widow into his own. Bending over it, he courtly pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Your servant," he said boldly.

Hattie watched the pair move down the stairs for a brief moment before she turned to her maid, "Minuet," her voice took on a mysteriously melodic dulcet tone. "I'll be in the chapel," her words were as telling as the gleam in her eyes.

"Will you need assistance Madame," Minuet asked after a moment.

"No, but you best warn the others," Hattie said as she headed toward the old chapel that housed the magical implements used by the Mistress of Magix Orleans. "We are at war, Cherrie…"

Minuet's lovely blue eyes darkened, and then took on a strange glow, "I will warn the others," she promised as she turned.

--

Upon arriving in London, and finding himself on a wild goose chase, Beau Jolie Bodine made his way secretly to the Air Base where a United States Jet was fueling up for a return trip to the States, "Conner," he shouted at a uniformed pilot, "Got room for a stowaway?"

Captain Conner turned and recognized his childhood friend, "Bodine, what are you doing in merry olde England?"

"Being led a merry chase," he tossed his baggage down on the tarmac, "Someone wanted me out of O'leans ."

"When did you arrive," the Irishmen asked, suspiciously.

"Just over an hour ago, I called my London office from the airport rather than hop into a cab…" Beau told his companion. "They had no idea why I was there, never sent me a cry for help… and didn't expect me here for at least three more weeks…" He crossed his arms, "Old friend, magic is afoot, and someone meant to keep me here… I didn't go to the taxies, but I could see a sign with my name on it… I prudently didn't accept the ride."

"Let me clear it with HQ," Conner said sharply, "I'm glad you remembered how to derail an abduction attempt."

"I didn't take training for nothing," Beau said, "There's going to be trouble back home, and I've a feeling I'm going to be needed."

"Trouble in the communion;" scoffed Conner. "Who would dare?"

"Gyles Norichace," Beau said darkly.

Conner's scoff died, and faded as a troubled continuance settled upon him, "Let me talk to HQ, you still have your clearances?" When Beau nodded, Conner moved swiftly to the field phone, moments later he waved the New Orleans native to join him as he moved to the airship. "You must have a lot of pull with the big wigs still, buddy…. I said your name and was told to give you whatever help you needed." He moved swiftly up the back of the cargo ship and into its belly, "I mentioned the business at the terminal to them, and they're sending over a team to investigate."

"They won't find anything," Beau said knowingly, "But thanks for the thought, now let's get this mother up in the air and head home."

"Something more than Gyles Norichace waiting for you back home?" Teased the pilot.

"A beautiful woman," Beau said wistfully, "With eyes like nothing you've ever seen, and lips begging to be kissed."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Chapter 23**_

Gyles' frown deepened as he read the afternoon post, he had expected the headlines to say that a child's body had been found at _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. He could not, and would not contact the law; he couldn't afford to become embroiled in controversy. Not now, with his goals so close at hand. Tossing the paper aside he moved to the edge of his terrace, looking down with disdain on the city he loathed. Little in life had ever given him satisfaction, but the thought of being lord over the city and making its citizens his minions gave him some small measure.

Jolene had poured herself a tall glass of iced tea, needing to stay stone sober. She watched her brother as he brooded over his failed attempt to discredit the man who had acted to rescue the sacrifice. "Fool," she whispered to herself. "You are going to destroy everything we've worked for." With clear senses she could see the folly of her brother's arrogance. Monsieur Pommeroi, whoever or whatever he was, was not going to stand back and allow the pair to achieve their goals.

Jolene had witness many unusual things in her short life. She'd seen the unbelievable and taken part in rituals that were thought by some to be myth or fantasy. She had embraced loa, the gentle and the dark alike. However nothing in her mystical experiences had prepared her for the man calling himself Monsieur Pommeroi. Just the thought of him set her trembling once more. It was not like any earthly thing she'd ever come into contact with. Whatever Monsieur Pommeroi was he was not of this world. Her eyes darkened with concern as she watched the brooding male at the rail of the open terrace. Gyles was not listening to her, and it was putting them both into peril. Thoughts of self preservation had begun to enter her mind, and although they were foreign to her, she was entertaining them.

Breathing deeply and concentrating, Gyles began to go over his moves thus far. It was not possible that the nameless one could have survived. However it was possible that instead of being found it had been dragged off and was now the meal of some gator. Discrediting his foe was no longer possible on the scale he'd wished, he'd have to be satisfied with making the sacrifice to the Dark Ones in the hidden sacred place that was on the lands of the _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation. He snickered to himself, most likely the dunce who now lived at the plantation was not aware of the connection it had to the past. After all he'd never heard of the owner, this Pommeroi.

Sighing and releasing the last of his aggravation, Gyles turned to look at his sister, "We move forward," he assured her.

"You think that wise," she challenged.

Gyles was displeased that she'd made the challenge. "Jolene, I have said we go forward."

Pursing her lips she shook her head, "Gyles, we are deserted," she reminded him.

Fire flashed in his eyes, "All will be restored," he promised, "Even the dark loa will return to us."

It was doomed to failure, but Jolene made one last attempt to salvage their position, "Gyles, this is beyond the loa, this is beyond vengeance… we are up against something not of this earth." She warned carefully, hopeful that this time he'd listen.

Looking at her with pity, thinking she was still suffering from the lack of her protective loa, Gyles spoke to her as he would a child. "I promise you, the loa will return once I am the most powerful Voodouin that has ever lived. Our family will be restored, and the name Gedde will take its rightful place once more." He reached out his hand to touch her face tenderly. "Tonight the sacrifice will be made, innocent blood spilled, and the girl corrupted before she breaths her last…Tonight I become master of this city and all its communions." He crooned lovingly to his sister, his twin, and his other half. "And you shall be the new Witch Queen."

"If you go through with this plan," she gritted her teeth, "I shall be as dead as those whose bones rot in the Gedde plantation's hidden vaults."

Dropping his hand, and gazing at her with contempt, Gyles laughed, "Nonsense." He turned away from her and headed into the penthouse. "I've a few last minute arrangements to make. When I return, be ready to begin the ceremonies."

"And should I refuse," she called after him.

Gyles cast one look over his shoulder, "Don't even consider such an act of treason, sister." He sneered, "I'll be back in two hours, be ready."

Jolene silently watched him as he moved away. "You bring on our deaths you fool," she lamented. It was not herself she was fearful for; it was for the child that Gyles was not aware of. The child she had conceived against his wishes, without his knowledge, a child that was not his. Placing a hand over the soft little swelling in her belly she made a silent vow, "We will not die my little one, we will escape, we will leave Gyles to his darkness and power… and death… and the Gedde will go on." Her fingers tightened over the growing being in her. "You and I will go on."

--

Sarah spoke first, "I've been aware of magic for a long time," she sighed deeply. "When I was fifteen, magic made sure I knew it was real." She looked at Kristy, "I should have told you this before we came here."

"We all have closets Sarah," Lizzie said lounging on her bed, "You don't think we told you everything about ourselves do you?"

Kristy nodded sympathically in agreement, "Sarah, I don't go around broadcasting that I'm a descendant of a Witch Queen of New Orleans!"

"Magic," Sarah said darkly, "I had no idea just how much of my life was going to be under its rule."

Taking her cue, Lizzie took the lead, "I doubt that this is exactly the kind of situation any of us thought we'd be in." She leapt off her bed and began to pace. "The question is, are we going to just be victims or are we going to stand up and show this puissant whom he's dealing with?"

Kristy giggled, "Oh let's show him," she begged.

Sarah was the only one who seemed to be a bit concerned the direction this was taking, "Have you any idea of what you're suggesting? Liz, this is not some rank amateur, this is some nutcase!"

Knitting her brow, the older girl gazed at Sarah with concern, "I would never have taken you for a coward Sarah."

"I'm not," Sarah assured her as she rose from the bed. "I'm not afraid of Gyles Norichace, not for myself… I have…protections he is not aware of. It's for the rest of you I'm fearful." She seemed taller, more poised, somehow regal as she stood there explaining to the two roommates her fears. "What protects me might not be enough to protect you."

Considering her words, Lizzie shrugged. "We'll have to chance it."

"I don't like taking risks with other lives," Sarah warned. "What I do with my own…"

"You're not taking the risk, I am." Lizzie said firmly.

"Me too," Kristy said boldly. "This is my town, remember?"

Sarah looked at her friends, "Thick and thin?"

Lizzie extended her hand, the other two placed one each upon hers, "If we fall… we fall together."

--

Hattie knelt at the Prie Dieu in her private chapel, head bowed and deep in thought. Even with the assurances of the Goblin King she was not certain she could protect any of the young ladies in her home. Dark Loa were not something she was happy about having to do battle with, even less so with Beau out of the country. She sighed deeply, "Oh Jolie, I wish you were here to guide me."

--

Gyles was making arrangements in his office; Jolene knew he'd be occupied for a few hours. It would take him that long to give orders to the minions who served him. She knew this was going to be her only chance. "Gyles, I'm going to Deveron to buy a new dress," she said breezily as she picked up her car keys off the table in the vestibule. "I saw the perfect dress for this evening in the window."

"Fine," he called as he paused giving instruction to his henchman, "Make sure it's really specktaural."

Jolene didn't want to seem like anything had changed, she didn't need him suspicious of her. "Oh it will be, I assure you… I will be outstanding." She promised and waved as she passed his open doorway.

"Good hunting," he said turning back to the map on his desk. The henchman was standing at his elbow looking at the map as well.

Moving with her usual grace, Jolene strolled out of the penthouse and down the hall to the elevator. Keeping the mask of content on her face, knowing her brother had installed cameras and was likely watching her leave. Jolene calculated the best way to keep up her façade, and began to hum a tune she'd loved as a child. When the elevator reached the garage of the building, she moved unhurriedly toward her little sports car. Her heart was racing, and she had to fight to keep control. It would not do her any good to give into the desire to panic. So far, so good~ it seemed that Gyles was too absorbed in the planning of the abduction that was to take place within a few hours. As long as his mind was occupied on that he'd be too busy to think notice her absence.

Smoothly she started her engine, and pulled out of her parking space. Reaching the door of the garage she gave the attendant her usual greeting and waved good bye as she pulled out of the building and turned the car in the direction of the exclusive fashion house she'd mentioned to her brother on her exit. She continued on that path, and once she'd reached the destination she smoothly pulled past and drove on. Jolene breathed a sigh of relief, and placed her hand on her belly, "We will be free, little one… I promise you." She turned off the road and headed to the highway, heading her car to the one place Gyles would never think of looking for her, _**Le Petit Bruyere **_plantation.

She had seen the estate from the road dozens of times, perhaps thousands. Never had she dreamed she be paying a call. Pulling up to the gate she pressed the button and waited for the speaker.

"Whose calling," a accented voice belonging to a Creole servant asked.

Head held high, Jolene answered peacefully. "Jolene Gedde." The gate opened and she pulled her car into the drive. She didn't take time to appreciate the beauty of the estate, her mind was on more important matters than that japonicas or the crape myrtle. The man standing at the end of the drive and his companion were what interested Jolene. She stopped her vehicle, stepped out and addressed him politely. "Monsieur Pommeroi," the tall lean blond inclined his head ever so slightly, a wickedly beautiful smirk on his proud featured face. "I'm Jolene Gedde… I am here to offer you a truce."

"A truce," he repeated disbelievingly.

The young woman shrugged, "I have no desire to die," she stated firmly, placing a hand on her hidden treasure. "I've reasons to live."

Jareth saw the gesture, and understood instantly. "You're with child."

"Gyles does not know," the pretty dark Voodouin announced. "And what he does now, he does without me… without the dark loa…."

"You are offering to exchange Gyles for what?" Jareth asked calmly.

"For peace," she said guardedly. "Sir, what good does revenge do if it means the end of all life? What Gyles plans now will mean death… to not only the one he sees as a sacrifice, but to him as well. There has been enough death, enough revenge. I don't want my child to die before it has had a chance to live."

"How do I know you are earnest and sincere," Jareth asked with no crack in his mask of indifference to the girl. "How do I know that you're not just as determined as your life-threatening and homicidal forbearers and your brother?"

Jolene bowed her head, "I was," she admitted, "Until the loa left me… now my babe and I are unprotected."

Jareth extended a hand toward the young woman, "Come, sit," he offered. "We will talk."

Artemis watched as the Goblin King and the Voodouin walked to the veranda and took seats. He too was wondering if she were genuinely looking for a truce.

Jolene placed her hands on the table between her and the owner of the estate. "Gyles goes too far, he seeks what cannot be owned in this world." She stated before Jareth had a chance to direct the conversation. "My entire life he told me we had to seek revenge for what was done to our family. I believed him; I thought he was doing something noble, self serving, but noble."

"And now," Jareth asked softly.

Dark eyes looked into the stormy ones. "Now I question my own part in the deeds that have been done." Her voice broke, "What happened to the Gedde was our own doing. The evil that we created consumed us." She winced and closed her eyes. "Gyles goes the route that took the Gedde to the gates of hell."

Jareth measured her words, "Are you aware of all your brother's deeds?" The dark eyes opened to him, "Do you know he's raised human sacrifices, nameless, soulless creatures?"

"There is much he does not tell me," Jolene confessed. "I'm not surprised. He thinks himself a reincarnation of the last Gedde. We were raised with the name Norichace, and told never to utter the Gedde name. But Gyles has never listened to anyone, and he took the power that the dark loa offered… as did I."

"There will be a battle this night, Miss~ Gedde." Jareth addressed her by the old name. "One that your brother will not survive," being darkly blunt was his only recourse. "He covets a prize that belongs to me."

Jolene didn't seem surprised, "I thought so," she leaned forward. "I tried to talk him out of this," she insisted. "When the Loa left, I told him we'd gone too far. He insists that he will be the most powerful man in New Orleans…. But it is not just the blood of the girl he intends to spill… oh he plans on opening her veins and draining her… but he also plans on," she paused trying to find a word that was not vulgar, "Deflowering her."

"I'm aware," Jareth's voice tightened.

""Monsieur Pommeroi," Jolene became business like, "I'm willing to trade what I do know, in exchange you will allow my child and I to live, and I will promise to you on my blood that from here on, the Gedde will not seek revenge."

"Miss Gedde," Jareth leaned back. "What assurances can you give?"

"I will give you our allegiance," the young woman said. "I will do whatever I have to, I want to live."

Artemis had been listening, "Sire," he whispered in warning.

The young woman looked from the man to the scholar and back at the man. "Sire," she questioned, "You are not of this world…"

Jareth smiled, "No, I am not." He was unperturbed by her declaration. "However I'm sure you were already aware of that fact."

"I know not what kingdom you come from, I don't care," she shrugged. "Gyles is your problem now, I give him to you with no remorse."

"Miss Gedde," Jareth assessed her carefully. "Should I accept your offer of truce, I will not later look kindly upon you if you betray me."

Jolene stood up, "Gyles plans on spilling the blood of Sarah Williams in the gardens of the old Gedde plantation," she stated, "I will never set foot there again, nor will any of my descendants, and that's a promise you can count on." She offered her hand to the Goblin King. "Pax?"

Jareth accepted the offered appendage, "Pax." He shook the hand firmly. "Now, do tell me what it is Gyles has planned, so I may thwart him."

Jolene resumed her seat and began to speak, "Do you know the custom of…"


	24. Chapter 24

_**Chapter 24**_

Jareth listened to the young Creole woman speaking; her calm impressed him as did her ability to separate herself from the deeds she'd taken part in. He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he heard her out. "So he's been telling you and his followers that he's going to use my plantation for his sacrifice, while he's been really planning on making taking Sarah's life at the Gedde estate? How can you be sure?" he questioned softly.

"Gyles is a creature of habit, one of which is marking things with red ink. He's always drawing magical symbols, and signs, and whenever he's used a map to direct his minions it's not your plantation or the swamp here he marks, it Gedde lands he gravitates to." Jolene explained with a slightly amused wisp of a smile, "He thinks I'm not aware of his little quirks, that I'm too fearful of being without the loa to care about anything else. He also does not know that I'm gone."

"Your insight and your information will save lives this night young woman," Jareth addressed her with formal ambiance. "I offer you sanctuary," his voice was powerfully quiet. "However, before you agree, consider." He leaned forward, "The cost."

Jolene placed a hand over the imperceptible bump, over the tiny life just starting within her. "I have, or I would not be here Monsieur Pommeroi," her voice trembled slightly. "My brother courts death and I have no desire to die, not now."

Jareth nodded, he could well understand how a child could change one's view on life and the world. He stood up and paced, wondering if he could afford to be merciful. Gedde blood was on his hands, and would be again this night. He looked at the young woman sitting, watching him with the eyes of a raven. "I cannot allow you to continue to live here."

"I will move," she stated firmly. "New Orleans is no longer welcoming to me."

Amused by her statement Jareth smirked, "No doubt, however when I say here, I mean on this side of the mists, Miss Gedde." The girl blinked as he spoke, "I know you say this moment that you vow for you and all your descendants, and I know you believe your words. However, I heard that exact promise before."

Jolene's mouth dropped, "It was you… you saved the girl… the one who gave us the name Norichace," her hands gripped the arm rails of her chair.

One elegant brow raised and the man smiled cryptically. "I have a tendency to be… lenient with beautiful women, Miss Gedde." His smile faded, "However I cannot afford to be indulgent this time."

"I have given you my brother," she protested, placing a hand over her forming child protectively. "Monsieur, do not …"

"I have no intention of leaving you to the mercilessness and vindictiveness your brother would shower upon you, and your unborn," Jareth interrupted her protests. "I accepted your offered truce, but there is too much at stake to allow you to go on living here in this world. You will be given sanctuary, but it will be on the other side of the mists that separates our worlds."

Jolene stood up, "Is that possible?"

"Is that wise," Artemis tempered.

Jareth didn't bother looking at the scholar; he kept his eyes on the young Creole woman. "Miss Gedde, you yourself know that promises made by one generation are not always honored by those that follow." His words cut to the bone, "I was given the promise of pax before, and your brother saw fit to disregard it. To ensure that this pax is lasting, you and your child will be given citizenship in my kingdom."

"You would exile us," she whispered. "To a world where there are no other humans…"

"Nonsense," Jareth said with a wicked grin, "There are many humans in my kingdom." He turned to Artemis, "Take Miss Gedde in to Anton and ask him to see to her needs, the rose bedroom would be nice I think."

"You offer me the shelter of your home?" Jolene asked.

"Because of the unrest betwixt the worlds," Jareth stated calmly. "Your dark loa have taken refuge in the space between the worlds. Once the balance is restored they will return here, where they belong." He touched her face gently, "I completely understand balance, ying and yang… the dark loa are as important to the balance of magic in New Orleans as the loa of the light."

His touch gave her comfort, and Jolene nodded, "I will accept your offered sanctuary," her voice was peaceful. "I only ask that when you end my brother's life, you do so quickly… please don't make him suffer… he suffers enough."

Jareth watched her exit gracefully and walk away under the supervision of Artemis. Hoggle had been watching from a place where he was unseen, "You going to honor that request?"

The Goblin King looked at the dwarf with hardening eyes, "What do you think?"

Shivering and remembering how angry this Fae King could be, Hoggle shook his head, "I think I'm glad I'm not Gyles Gedde Norichace," he turned to look at the swamp. "I think she's wrong, I think he's coming here…."

"We'll be ready for him," Jareth promised, "No matter where he takes Sarah." He stood for a moment staring at the same place in the swamp that Hoggle was intently gazing upon before he placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "No one will ever harm our Sarah, I promise you Hoggle."

"I'm holding you to that Sire."

--

Sarah looked at the shadows cast from the window, the sun was going to set soon, she turned to Kristy, "So how does one dress to face down the dark magic here in New Orleans?"

The perky little red haired girl smirked, "The custom is for the users of magix here in N'Orleans to wear white." Moving to the closet she pulled out a white cotton dress, simple but so elegantly cut. The top layer of cotton was a lace cutout over a cotton under-slip. "I've been saving this," Kristy said and handed the dress to Sarah. "I was going to give it to you just before we leave something to remember my beautiful crescent city by." Reaching back into the closet she pulled out anther dress, not quite the same as this one, and handed it to Lizzie. "This one is for you." Turning back she pulled out a third dress, again in a slightly different style for herself.

Lizzie held the full skirted white dotted Swiss up against her, "You have such a good eye." She complemented her friend.

"I didn't take garment design for nothing," Kristy quipped as she tossed her dress to the bed, "Clean off every trace of makeup," she ordered. "In fact we three best shower, we need to divest ourselves of the trappings of this world. No makeup, or hair-gel or hairspray," she moved to her dresser and pulled out three pairs of cotton patties, tossing one to each of the other girls. "We'll have to go braless, I don't own a white cotton bra… and if I did, Sarah would never fit in it." She teased.

"So I'm blessed by mother nature," Sarah said stripping off her clothes as she headed to the bath, "I'll be out in five minutes," she promised.

Lizzie looked at Kristy once they were alone, "Anything else I need to know?"

Kristy was taking beads out of her dresser, long strands of white Orisha Beads, "I have no idea, I'm winging this." she admitted. "This is the first time I've ever had to use the magic that surges through my veins."

"While it's not the first for me," Lizzie said looking at the beads that Kristy had handed her, "It's not like the little spells I've uttered before."

"We'll have to trust our instincts," Kristy suggested sounding older and wiser than her youthful years.

"Should we warn Hattie," Lizzie asked.

The redhead closed her eyes, letting her mind sense her aunt, "No, she's aware."

Sarah emerged from the bath wrapped in a fluffy towel, hair dripping wet, "Next," she said as she moved to her bed and began to dry off.

Kristy motioned for Lizzie to go next, moving to Sarah with the white Orisha Beads that she had pulled for her. "Remember, we are calling upon N'Orleans magic, that means loa and walking spirits that protect the city. In honor of them we must sacrifice the mundane cosmetics we would usually use." She handed Sarah a small jar with an ointment, "Use this instead of the deodorant you would usually use."

Sarah sniffed the open jar, "What is it?"

"Acacia flowers' ointment," Kristy explained, "its fragrance stimulates psychic senses, and gives the user a sense of the spirit world around them, and it smells good."

"It does smell good," Sarah admitted taking another sniff. "Reminds me of something…"

Kristy was not listening to the girl, she was busy tying little cloth bags the size of a dime to each to the Orisha Bead strands. "This is a mojo," she said while she worked. "In each bag is a throne, some Angelica root, and a bay leaf. Wear it inside your dress," she saw Lizzie emerge from the bath and moved to take her turn. "Give the Acacia flower ointment to Lizzie when you're through with it Sarah."

Sarah removed her towel forgetting modesty as it was not a luxury any of them could afford at the moment. She donned the garments that Kristy had laid out for her. She tossed the jar of ointment to the waiting blond who without question followed Sarah's example of use. Both girls were dying their hair with the discarded towels when Kristy emerged to join them. "White sandals," she said as Sarah looked at the shoes she'd brought with her. "As representatives of the magic community, we must don all white."

"This make us the good guys?" teased Lizzie as she ran her fingers in her hair to untangle the long strands of hair.

Kristy shrugged, "White is the traditional dress of the unmarried practitioners of my Aunt's sect."

--

Jingle watched with fearful worry, "Polygala," she whispered. "Sarah's about to do something very dangerous, you might want to stay here…"

The little garden sprite shook her head, "No, I'm going with you! You may need me."

--

Tiny hairs on Hattie's neckline began to tingle; every fiber of her being became alert. She stood up as the door of the chapel was violently kicked in. Before she could react something hit her in the chest, the burst of energy that shot through her body knocked her senseless. The last thing she heard was a male voice saying, "The boss wants the girl brought to him, this one's out of the way, go get the little bitch."

Her eyes would not focus, but Hattie memorized the smell, she would make sure this one paid for his crimes.

--

Sarah heard the footfalls, heavy on the stairs and snapped her fingers to get the attention of her roommates. The door burst open and two men with guns drawn entered. "What do you want," she demanded boldly.

"You're coming with us," one informed her gruffly.

"You're not taking her," Kristy growled back, "Not without us."

"Three for the price of one," laughed the other man, "Fine," he waved his gun, "Let's go."

Sarah saw poor Minuet lying motionless on the floor, a large ugly bruise forming where she'd been struck. Silently the girl who had traversed a magical Labyrinth vowed revenge on the men who had violated this house, and she prayed that Hattie was unharmed. "Bastards," she muttered as the three girls were shoved out the door and down to a waiting car. In the car they were gagged and their eyes were blindfolded.

The men who had bound and gagged the three young women would not have been so jubilant had they been able to see that a goblin, a garden sprite had hitched a ride on the bumper of the vehicle and a host of mythical folk were following them.

--

Jareth sensed the move in the fabric of magic, "They've taken Sarah," he announced.

Squee looked at his King, "Where's Jingle?" he asked suddenly remembering his usual companion.

"She's with Sarah," Jareth dropped the mortal glamour, "Artemis, go to Hattie, she's been injured." Instantly he transported the Scholar.

"My mother's been injured," Beau's voice bellowed as he entered the garden having just arrived.

"Beau," Jareth called the young man to his side, "Sarah's been taken, and those foolish girls went with her."

"We have to save them," Beau fretted, "I have to tell her I love her…"

Jareth felt a hand grip his heart, he looked at his Godson, speechless for a moment. "I promise you… you'll be able to tell her."

Squee howled, "No one takes our Sarah!" he stomped his foot so hard the ground about him shook. "Goblins to the rescue," he bellowed as he ran toward the swamp. "Man your gators!"

Sir Didymus shook his head, muttered some comment about being too old for such nonsense, as he too headed toward the swamp. Hoggle looked at the Goblin King who grabbing hold of Beau began to transport whomever was in his vicinity to the destination at the edge of the swamp that was beside the Gedde estate.

--

Artemis emerged from the transportation spell in the foyer of the Bodine house. He saw the maid and left her where she was, heading toward the scent that belonged only to Hattie. He found the fallen Witch Queen, gasping for air. "Hattie," he cried out as he dove to his knees to pull the cords still sparking electrical current. "Darling, breathe!" he begged as he freed her from the cable and wires. He held her for a moment as she stopped writhing. "Hattie, speak to me…" he begged.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," she growled darkly.

Artemis placed his head alongside hers. "I fear you'll have to stand in line," he held her gently. "Your servants are injured, and we must tend to them as soon as you're quite yourself."

"They took my babies," she sobbed, "My girls…" the flood gates opened, and Hattie gave herself permission to cry.

Holding her, soothing her, and supporting her, Artemis felt tears in his own eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Chapter 25**_

Tessa and those closest to her were gathered at the edge of the swamp that bordered the Gedde plantation. Each wore ceremonial garments, and fetishes. The Voodouin's head was covered in a large dark clothe that was tightly wrapped. Her lips were pursed, her eyes swept over the terrain while she motioned everyone else to keep as still as possible. Tessa knew that Jareth was on his way and would expect a full report. She had known even before the girls had been abducted that trouble was afoot. Gyles had arrived with a few of his most trusted henchmen, and began to prepare. Tessa watched, knowing that the dark one was upset by something that had not gone according to his plans. That was over an hour ago, and now he was beyond upset and shooting past furious.

"Where in the blazes could she have gone?" Gyles demanded of one of his men. "She knew how important this is…"

"We can't find her," the man said while talking to someone on a cell phone. "She never showed up at Deveron, and no one has seen her car in hours."

The dark master closed his eyes, feeling for that thread that connected him to his twin. "Where are you sister dear," he muttered as he sought to prevail. He hit a brick wall, one that had never been up betwixt him and the girl. "Bitch!" he cursed. "She's deserted me… and has sought the protection of one whom I cannot move against for now…. Well, feel safe for now sister dear, when the Dark Loa returns and I am master of the Magix of N'Orleans… you too shall pay for your abandonment."

The men with Gyles feared his anger, and backed slowly away from him.

Tessa watched and listened, "So," she whispered lighter than air, "The dark one's sister comes to the side of the righteous."

"Mama," a reedy bodied girl touched the shoulder of the Queen. "He comes," her voice was urgent.

"I know child," Tessa nodded still keeping an eye on Gyles. "I felt the fabric move too."

"He comes," the girl turned to look where the Goblin King and his entourage were forming. She made a protective sign, and backed away, eyes lowered.

Jareth didn't speak, but moved silently to where Tessa kept vigil. His eyes went instantly to where the dark skinned woman's eyes were watching. He placed a hand on her arm and nodded.

--

Jingle and the little sprite kept out of sight, but were close enough to keep a magical connection to the girl the Goblin King had sent them to watch over. Jingle felt her jaw hinge lock as she kept the growl that was forming in her goblin throat from escaping her clamped lips. Polygala held tight to the goblin that was her means of transportation. All through the streets of the town, and now into the outskirts, the pair had clung to the bumper of the dark car, knowing mundane mortals would choose not to see them.

Sarah, bound and gagged and blindfolded, sensed the tingle that she always felt when a goblin was near. She knew it was most likely some little spy that Jareth had given the dubious task of guarding his "precious". Had it not been for the gag in her mouth the captors would have seen a slow smirk form on her lips. She was quietly relieved that Jareth was still possessive, and she counted on his knowing her situation. 'You promised,' she thought to herself, 'that you'd be there even as my world fell down. I sure hope you intend to keep that promise.'

--

Jareth closed his eyes, the delicate thread that existed between him and the mortal girl who had beaten his Labyrinth flexed, moved and deepened. His smile widened, and he chuckled softly to himself. The girl had taken a bold step in reaching out mentally toward him. Jareth opened his eyes to find Mama Tessa looking at him with an almost reptilian expression on her dark face. Her eyes were flashing fire.

"Now not the time to be makin' time, Char!" she warned urgently.

"Danger is a strange catalyst," he admitted darkly in a voice that purred with contentment. "However I'll take what I can get." He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Beau was crouched down in the high weeds with Tessa's followers and Hoggle. "For as long as I can," he whispered with remorse.

Tessa saw the car pulling into the long drive of the plantation. "She comes."

Jareth's head snapped round and he looked to where the car was parking.

Gyles stood on the steps of the plantation house, looking like the master of the estate, dressed in white garments of the olde Southern gentry. The smile faded from his face when the three girls were pulled from the car. "I said to bring her," he pointed to Sarah, his voice growled darkly at the men who were given the task of delivering the sacrifice.

"They wouldn't let her go alone," one of the men smirked as he ripped the blindfold off Sarah. "What's two more?"

"Trouble," spat Gyles as the two other girls blindfolds were also removed. He moved closer and glared at Kristy. "This one is the niece of that bitch Hattie!" His hand shot out, his fist connected with the side of the head of the man who was smirking. "Fool," he bellowed. Kristy glared back at Gyles, her eyes showed no fear, only abhorrence. Gyles seemed amused by the show of backbone. "So you've decided to accept your legacy little one," he teased the girl darkly. "Perhaps I'll save you to last… I could use a member of your line… you'd even make a half way decent queen…" slowly he reached out to touch the girl.

Sarah closed her eyes, focused and the gag that had been between her teeth dissolved like mist. "Take your hand from her," Sarah ordered in a voice that held more authority than Gyles had ever heard. The rope binding her hands also vanished, as did the gags and bounds on her friends.

Gyles looked at Sarah in mild surprise, then at the girl who he'd been reaching for. "So you know something of magic, do you little vixen?" he lowered his hand. "Too bad you've so little practice." He snapped his fingers and guards grabbed the arms of the women thinking it would hold them tight. "You're no match for me," he remarked snidely.

"Mistake," Jareth whispered in an amused tone from his hiding place.

Hearing the words that Jareth had spoken a few years earlier, Sarah raised one perfectly shaped brow and retorted, "You think not?"

Gyles, far too full of himself to notice that dark clouds were gathering overhead, and too cocky to care, moved toward Sarah. "I am Gyles Gedde!" he boasted. "Master of dark Magix and the most powerful man in New Orleans."

"Big whoop," Sarah sarcastically tossed back.

"Woman," he growled threateningly in a sinister manner he felt should frighten the little Northerner. "You have no idea of whom you are dealing with."

Instead of quaking or begging for mercy, Sarah remained calm and arrogant, "The same could be said of you." Gyles was taken aback, and Sarah chuckled, "You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"You," he quipped sarcastically. "You are nothing, just an ordinary girl…"

One gloved hand went swiftly to the mouth of the Goblin King as he forced the laugh to remain within him. His eyes stung as he watched his "precious".

Sarah scoffed at the man the moment he had denounced her. "Ordinary girl," she questioned. "Can an ordinary girl out riddle a ruse, turn a coward to a hero, renew the spirit of an old knight, or gentle a beast? Can an ordinary girl find her way to the center of the Labyrinth, win back the wished away and live to tell the tale?" She felt magic tingle as it surged through her veins. "Can an ordinary girl boast that she is the Champion of the Goblin Realm?"

"Goblin Realm," one of the men who held Sarah's arms whispered. "She's demented."

Gyles' eyes widened. "So you are protected by goblins are you," he questioned mockingly. "Where are your protectors now?" Sudden movement, dark bodies in shadows, and little shrikes sounded. Gyles looked about, and snapped his fingers. "Take them to the grove!" he ordered the men holding the three women. "We've no time to waste."

Tessa looked at Jareth; he was watching the girl who had spoken so boldly. His face was a mask of pride and admiration. "She was never an ordinary girl," she assured the Goblin King.

"No," he whispered profoundly, "I know that now," he admitted. "I only hope I didn't learn it too late." He motioned for the goblin gathering to move closer. Goblins and Tessa's followers moved closer, Beau moved closer as well. "We go in," he said quietly, "Give Sarah room to work, but keep an eye on her and the other girls, in case they need us."

"Don't you think we should just over power Gyles," Beau asked urgently.

"No," Jareth advised. "Gyles will be handled, and the girl will be safe," he tried to sound assuredly. "Have faith, my boy."

Gyles looked to where the three bound women had stood only a moment ago. "If anything happens to her…"

Jareth placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I promise you, she will be safe." He pointed to where Jingle and the sprite were moving swiftly after Sarah. "She is not alone, my boy."

--

Jingle could feel the others gathering and more reinforcements coming by way of water. She grabbed Poly by the scruff and pulled her up off her feet, knowing she could move much faster than even the winged sprite. She held the tiny creature in an easy grip as she raced in shadows, following the King's girl. The little goblin female didn't halt until she reached the strange marble pillars that were in the center of a grove of cypress trees. The trees looked unhealthy.

Poly dug her tiny fingers into Jingle, pained and in agony. "Death," she gasped. "They mean to kill here again." She looked with misery at the ailing trees. "It has already begun," she warned her goblin friend.

Jingle nodded, and pulled a small vial from her garment, "Drink this," she handed the uncorked flask to her sprite cohort. "It will strengthen you."

Trusting the other, the sprite took a long deep gulp. Instantly the little creature felt better. "Thank you," she handed the bottle back to the goblin. "There are no garden sprites here," she said in a stronger voice. "No gnomes, no dyad… this place is magically dead."

"That has not escaped me," Jingle assured her companion. "He uses negative energies." She looked for the best place to stay hidden. "We can see better there," she pointed to a dark snag of a tree. "Ready?"

--

Sarah allowed the man whose hands were gripping her to think he had the upper hand. It was to her advantage to not over play and get ahead of herself. She could feel the goblins coming closer. An unmistakable scent was now in the air, too light for most to sense. Gyles seemed unaware of it, but Sarah knew the scent, she'd smelled it so often in the Labyrinth that it now haunted her. Jareth was near, and that was all Sarah needed to know.

Kristy and Lizzie both took their cues from the dark haired girl, allowing their captors to think they had the upper hand.

Gyles struggled into the dark blood red robes that had been handed down to him. The last True Gedde, he felt he had every right to wear them. He moved ahead of the procession and began the chant, "By the dark of night and the light of day," his voice was full of rage. "I renounce the name that has been placed upon me. No more will there be a Norichace." He moved to what looked like an altar and took into his hand a very shape knife. He slipped the blade over the palm of his hand, and a stream of blood began to flow, becoming thicker and redder as he clenched his hand into a tight fist. The blood began to drop on the top of the altar and then as he moved his hand away it fell to the very ground the altar sat upon. "By all that is unholy I take back that which was stolen from me!" he shouted. "My name and my power!" more blood slipped on the forest floor. "I am the last of the Gedde Lords, and I my fathers and forefathers will be avenged." From out of the shadows shapes appeared, tortured and agonized; dark shapes filling the circle that formed within the pillars. Cries filled the grove, sheiks of pain and the smell of death accompanied the cries.

Sarah watched Gyles, knowing he was conjuring up souls that should have been left to the darkness that enclosed them. "Don't do this, Norichace," she warned using the name the family had adopted.

"I am Gyles Gedde," he spat at her. "And I will have what is mine." He flung the athame back to the stone altar. "Light the eternal flames," he shouted. The candles and the bale fires that were surrounding the space that was to be used for the sacrifices sputtered and then burst into flames. The demented wild eyed man chuckled, it was an ugly sound. "I call upon the spirits of darkness, on the dark Loa and the blood of my forefathers." He chanted.

"Don't do this," Sarah said, still not struggling, and feeling the grip of her guard tighten on her arms. "You can still end this."

"Blood will be spilled," Gyles stated; "In celebration of the return of the Gedde. The strongest users of magic this city has ever known."

Kristy was the first to notice the change, then Lizzie. Even the guard holding onto Sarah didn't seem to be aware of the change at first. It started as a humming sound, then a vibration in the ground surrounding the champion of the Goblin Realm. Blue flames, not unlike St. Elmo's fire shot up out of the ground. The guard startled released Sarah from his grip as he jumped back out of the way.

Sarah's eyes had changed, no longer just their beautiful green, now green light glowed out of the sockets that seemed to have enlarged. "If blood be spilt, it will be your own," she warned as her hands rose slowly, gracefully upward. The words that next issued forth were in a strange tongue and a different timber than that of the girl who was speaking them. Gyles halted, and stared at her. The guards holding Lizzie and Kristy backed away, still holding their prisoners, muttering that the devil had gotten into the other girl.

"You care call upon Mother Earth," Gyles glowered. "You think you can take me on," he was nearly screaming at the girl with glowing eyes. "I am The Gedde! I am the most powerful Voodouin ever born."

Sarah, or rather the spirit that was channeling in her, leveled her gaze and spoke in a thickly accented voice. "_**Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit; I ask thee to Cleanse my body of all negative energies.  
Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit; I ask thee to Free and heal my body from all negative forces. Blessed be!!**_"

"Marie," whispered Tessa reverently from her hiding place. "She houses Marie."

"She's channeling the Laveau," Jareth corrected; "Just as Marie channeled more powerful spirits."

Gyles, not to be out chanted, extended his arms out from the side of his body and extolled, _**"King Notus of the south wind, by the powers of fire,  
I call you to carry my wish to the southern quarter,  
and by the powers of Salamanders, I ask that you bring me success".**_ The **Loa** quaked, but refused to come forth. "I command thee!" Still no answer as the man began to feel the tremors in the ground below him. His eyes darkened as he cursed the creature before him. "_**Thou shalt be turned into a stone,  
And that all thy wits shall be turned front to back,  
And that over thy face the loathsomeness shall creep,  
And that as in a coffin thy limbs shall be bound,  
And that light shall be withheld from thine eyes,  
And that thy house and lands shall be impoverished and spoiled,  
And that all the nourishment shall taste to thy tongue as wormwood,  
And that thou shalt be held alien from thy fellow man,  
And that these things shall be so until I release thee,  
I spread this table and mark this stone  
And spit upon it and conceal it,  
And light these candles and apply these poisons,  
And fix this curse upon thee  
In the names of the Four Fires  
Whose names are RIL, YUT, SAR, and LOD,  
Who shall consume thee as they are consumed."**_ Both his hands now extended in the direction of the girl and flames of deep red appeared, not unlike the blue flames that surrounded Sarah. The flames shot forward, encompassing the figure that stood before the dark master of magic, but the spell failed. Gyles staggered back as if hit by a thunderous blow.

The men holding the other two women saw movement, heard sounds that were unmistakably inhuman. "Master," one of them cried out as strange looking beings began to emerge from the swamp waters. "Tell us what to do…"

Gyles saw the first of the hideous creatures, and mistakenly thought it was a dark loa. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was not a spirit, but rather a dark greasy bodied goblin. "Take those women into the pavilion!" he shouted moving toward the woman surrounded in blue flames. Ignoring the powerful field surrounding her, he latched on to Sarah's arm and yanked her. "We can finish this inside the house of Gedde!" His voice was now a snarl. "What better place to spill your blood and avenge my forefathers?" He asked as he pulled the entranced woman along.

Tessa motioned her followers, her hand went up in the air, and she made a wide circle with her hand. Jareth snapped his fingers and goblins poured into what had moments ago been a sacrificial grove. The pillars were torn down, and the altar overturned; where Gedde blood had been spilled the goblins poured salt and sulfur. The dead snags were obliterated by the thundering herd of goblins and the gator's they rode in on.

The pavilion was a glass room the last Gedde had built as a renovation and annexation to the house, shaped like a hexagon almost Victorian solarium. The tiles on the floor of the room were garishly shaped and if one didn't know that they were spells, they would have just thought the room tastelessly designed.

Gyles shoved Sarah into the room and bared the door, thinking to keep out what had invaded his grove. Sarah, still under the enchantment of the trance laughed at him and taunted. "You think to keep out what you've brought in, foolish boychild." Turning on her like a madman, Gyles hand came up and then connected with a force that should have rendered Sarah unconscious. Instead she stood taunting him with glowing eyes and strength that seemed to be entering her from the tiles upon which she stood. "IS that all you good for?" she asked boldly. "Slapping around women? You Gedde be more stupid now than ever."

Gyles pulled the blade he wore in his belt, a different blade than the consecrated one that he'd used to slit his palm open. "Kill them," he ordered violently. If the men had expected Kristy and Lizzie to just stand there while they were strangled, they had another thing coming. The two girls dressed in white turned like tigresses upon their attackers. Gyles thinking they were dying laughed, as he advanced toward Sarah. "The last blood spilt here was the blood of my family. Your blood and that of your friends will cleanse my house."

The spirit that had taken hold of Sarah looked upon the foolish man; "Mercy was shown," she reminded him. "She who bore the seed that grew into thee was allowed to leave here." Suddenly the tiles began to break up, monolithic shards of stone shot up, forming a bizarre sculpture surrounding Sarah.

"Mercy," spat the enraged deranged man. "What would you or the rest know about mercy? We asked for nothing, and expected less. We take what we need!" He slashed at her with the blade, missing her by only inches. "_**Ham Dam Sam Nam Jam Pin Chu,"**_ he chanted as the blade flashed closer.

"_**Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit; I ask thee to Cleanse my body of all negative energies.  
Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit; I ask thee to Free and heal my body from all negative forces. Blessed be!!**_" The spirit chanted peacefully as she began to levitate above the ground that was not becoming a mass of rubble. "Turn back Norichace; this is your last warning."

The pavilion was surrounded outside now, and the creatures in the darkness were visible. The chants of hundreds of practitioners of magic began to fill the air. The soft humming was not a ear-piercing high-pitched earsplitting shriek. The two henchmen, still battling the Amazonian women cried out in pain. Gyles heard the cries of his followers as they were torn to shreds by something outside the pavilion. "Kill them, spill their worthless blood," he ordered the men who were unable to keep hold on the prisoners. "Kill the filthy bitches, end their lines!" The blade in his hand seemed to begin to glow blood red, elevated above his head, his eyes wide and wild he rushed forward.

The glass windows of the pavilion imploded, sending a shower of glass shards everywhere. The force that had caused the implosion sent the inhabitants of the glass room flying about like leaves on the winds of a hurricane. Blood rushed and pounded in the ears of the men whose hands were struggling to keep hold on what should have been fragile necks. Screams of anguish were the last sounds that issued in the throats of the henchmen. The two women hit by the force of the blast fell by the wayside, trying to focus eyes that refused to clear.

Sarah stood glowing, as if nothing had taken place, serene and nearly in ecstasy. From the twisted remains of the door a figure emerged and entered the room. A storm had gathered, thunder roared and lightening flashed. The air was full of unearthly energy, as the being dressed in dark armor entered the pavilion. He was not alone; creatures of every nightmarish description surged forward. Behind him stood stone like the communion of magic; Hattie, Artemis and others had arrived, all stood dressed in the robes of their stations and their service. Jareth glared at Gyles Gedde. "Face me, pretender," he ordered in a roar. "Face judgment."

Gyles, enraged, roared back, "Seek me and this bitch in hell…" he turned to slash out at Sarah one more time, just as the blade should have connected, the girl ducked and his hand slashed thin air. Sarah, or the being within her, genuflected, and she was out of harm's way.

The force of the energy bolt that hit the surprised master of dark magic filled the space with blinding light, heat, and sound. What remained of the framework of the once grand pavilion twisted. The sound of metal and stone scraping and shattering deafened what was left of the henchmen. Those left ran screaming into the storm and the swamp, only to be surrounded by angry goblins and hungry gators.

Gyles, impaled on a sharp outcropping of the monolith that he'd been cast against gasped his last breaths. "I curse you all…" he struggled for breath and wheezed. "_**Ham Dam Sam Nam Jam Pin Chu,"**_ the dark one coughed as the blade fell from his hand and life drained out of him.

Jareth witnessed the glow recede from Sarah's eyes and watched girl sway. "Beau," he motioned his god son to enter thinking he'd come to Sarah's aid as he moved forward to turn the remains of the last Gedde to ash and stone.

Beau moved past the Goblin King, and then past Sarah who was not clinging to an oddly shaped monolith. "Darling," he moaned as he sought the blond woman. "Elizabeth, dearest," he pulled her up and cradled her in his arms after showering her face with tender kisses.

"Elizabeth," Jareth's head turned, he was still in the middle of his last task, but could not have been more surprised.

"Elizabeth," Hattie asked in a stunned tone as Artemis aided her entry into the ruins of the room.

"But I thought," Jareth sputtered, and pointed to Sarah.

"You thought what," Sarah asked in a soft chuckle, "didn't you know that Beau and Lizzie were in love?"

"No," Jareth admitted as he moved toward the champion of his realm. "I didn't… I thought it was you he wanted…"

Mockingly Sarah raised a brow, "OH and you were just going to give me up without a fight?"

Guiltily the Goblin King shrugged, "I wanted to do what was best for you…"

"Since when," she taunted, feeling kitten weak.

Hattie and Artemis were both now helping the wounded Kristy to her feet. "I suggest we continue this discussion outside," Artemis recommended strongly. "This room is about to collapse." He swept the injured girl up into his arms and gallantly carried her out of the rubble followed by Hattie. Likewise Beau swept Lizzie up into his arms, and out of the twisted room leaving the Goblin King and the Girl alone.

Jareth looked at Sarah, "So you're not disappointed," he asked motioning to his godson and the woman that was in his arms.

"No," Sarah answered peacefully. "Why should I be?"

"Sarah," Jareth closed his eyes, and before he could say another world a hand reached forward. Soft finger tips hushed him.

"Don't go looking a gift horse in the mouth, Jareth… just accept what I've come to accept." She whispered softly.

Removing her hand gently, and holding it tenderly he smiled, "What would that be, Char?"

"Some things are fated," she resigned herself.

Nodding the King of the Goblins moved forward and picked her up in tender arms. "Really," he teased as he strode out of the rubble before the room collapsed to bury the remains of the henchmen. "You must tell me how that is sometime."

Tired, and emotionally wrung out, Sarah rested her head on the shoulder of the arms holding her. "Sometime," she promised. "Right now, I feel as if I walked a marathon."

Outside the room, Goblins, Voodouins, and partakers of magic from the communion gathered. Jareth, once a head count was taken and everyone accounted for, turned and gave one last look at what had been the Gedde plantation house. Great billows of smoke, flames and explosions erupted. "Ashes to ashes," he said with conviction. He looked at the assembled communion. "Tessa, take your people into the swamp and begin the healing. Dr. John, Papa, see to the healing of our community. Artemis and I will accompany Hattie and guests home." He called out. "Goblins, stand guard, harm on mortal, but keep that flame burning until the remains are gone."

Squee strutted forward, "You heard the king," he shouted. "Burn that building!"

Jingle and her sprite were standing in the shadows, content to allow the little male strut. In the distance the sounds of sirens could be hears. Just before Tessa moved into the swamp a strange gust of wind rushed forward, and dark shapes surrounded the remains of the burning building. Tessa nodded, "Loa return…" she confirmed. "Land will heal itself, good and bad now be balanced." She entered the swamp like the Queen she truly was.

Jareth, still holding Sarah in his arms transported Hattie, Artemis and her guests and son back to the Jolie Bodine house knowing that no matter how much water was poured, the house of Gedde would be no more.


	26. Chapter 26

_**Chapter 26, epilogue**_

Battered, bruised, and bandaged, Hattie's staff refused the offer of the Goblin King to heal their wounds. Instead they chose to wear the scars of battle with nobility. They brought broth and drink to the family as it returned to the house and treated the King with respect but weariness.

Beau refused to allow Lizzie out of his arms, and now sat on a chase lounge with his beloved. "I will speak to your father," he assured her. "How do you feel about a June wedding?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, "I graduate in June," she reminded him.

"I have never liked the idea of long engagements, Char." He quipped.

Sarah sipped a cup of mint tea, and watched quietly. Kristy seated beside Sarah also watched with pleased eyes.

Lizzie looked over at Hattie, "A little help; please."

Hattie stood by the mantle; she'd been looking at the portrait of Jolie, "I'm afraid I'm on Beau's side, Char. I cannot wait for you to be my daughter in law!"

Artemis looked with some melancholy at the face of the man looking down before turning his eyes to the woman; "My congratulations, my dear." Hattie didn't seem to hear him; she was looking at the young couple and remembering a time long ago. Burying the disappointment and regrets, he looked at the King who was watching Sarah. "Sire, I feel a great need to return home…."

"Yes," Jareth nodded distractedly. "With the dangers in our own kingdom abated, it's time to end this little spring break." He moved toward Beau, "I approve your choice of wife," he said simply. "Send me my invention and blessings on you both."

Beau smiled up happily as he enfolded his beloved. "We thank you, Uncle."

Lizzie rested her head on Beau's shoulder behind her. "Yes, thank you … Uncle."

Moving to Hattie he took the long slender hands into his own. "My dear," he said before planting a kiss on the offered cheek. "Be well… if you need me…"

"I'll call," she promised.

Jareth looked at Kristy and Sarah, "Ladies," he bowed to the both before turning to exit.

"Hold it right there, hot stuff!" Sarah gruffly said in so quite a tone that it was almost not heard. Jareth turned sideways to look her way, "Yeah you," she said rising from the chair. "We need to talk," she motioned to the garden.

"Sarah, there is no time," he offered apolitically.

"Make time," she demanded as the door flew open upon her approach.

She had not move her hand, had not touched the door and yet it had opened. Jareth cleared his throat and looked at the assembled group in the room. "Excuse us," he said following the dark haired girl out to the veranda.

Hoggle slapped a hand to his face, "Is she crazy, she was free and clear."

"Hardly," sighed Artemis.

Hattie moved toward him with a cup of tea, "When next do you plan to visit our fair city?"

Surprised, stunned and too pleased, he accepted the cup, "Soon, if that's alright."

"You will call, won't you?" she asked pleasantly.

Hopeful and full of joy the goblin scholar sipped the cup of tea.

--

Jareth moved out of the house, once more in the glamour of a Southern gentleman. "You wish to have words, Char?"

Sarah leaned on the post that rose from the floor to the roof. "Char," she addressed him more intimately than she'd ever dared. "I know you have to return to your… kingdom," she was choosing the words carefully. "I also know that I'm not ready to go with you… not just yet."

"No, you're not." He admitted moving toward her, glidingly as if on ice. Gently he braced himself on one arm, poised on the very post she was leaning on. "Sarah." He said her name gently, caressingly.

"Jareth," she whispered back.

"We have an understanding," he asked with eyes dancing merrily.

"We have," she assured him.

His eyes traced every inch of her face, before staring at the one object that he most desired. "Care to seal the bargain?" Sarah raised her head, closed her eyes and offered her lips to the King. Softly he placed his lips upon hers, sealing for all time the bargain made. With the arrangement sealed he felt the pull of his kingdom and vanished gently from the world of man. Sarah opened her eyes, "Au Revoir, Char." She said gently before going back into the Bodine house. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sounds of music, joyful and jubilant. The reverie of hundreds of goblins, and the words… "You remind me of the babe…" Sarah smiled to herself.


End file.
